Fragmented Echoes Tome I: Undeground Hell
by NoLazyShadow
Summary: Humanity has fallen. The only survivors continued to exist deep underground for two decades... working in terrifying conditions, dying from a single mistake...But one day something went wrong... terribly wrong. Everyone is gone...place is abandoned...and why the hell do I have tentacles on my head!
1. Act 1 Part 1: Awakening to nowhere

Act 1: Questionable goal

Part 1: Awakening to nowhere

Emptiness is all around me, with only the earth under my feet and not a single living soul in sight. The beautiful silence is interrupted only by a rare gust of whistling wind. Peace shrouds me in fog, removing all past stress and tension. How do I lack this; something as simple as a little silence and tranquility?

How do I get away from this crappy routine and go dance with life on the ever-busy streets of some big city, go get some drinks, a girl for a night and...

My stream of happiness and dreams is suddenly interrupted by the emerging sun. It radiates darkness, taking the light away, pulling some vile tentacles towards me... it's calling me to itself, just to drag me back into cruel, grey, unpleasant reality... and I can't resist it. I can't move...I'm paralyzed. All I can do is scream in despair. "_No...no-no-no—NO! I won't go back! I don't want it! Let me go... I don't want to spend my life there... please...! I JUST! WANT! TO! LIVE_!" But it can't hear me. It can't. It's only here to drag me back. Every fucking day and night...

But this time something goes wrong. Terribly wrong...

I wake up myself; no alarms, just the buzz of an old lamp - strange. Pain encases my entire body. My head is killing me, everything brules in the eyes - I feel sick and way too lazy to get up. All signs of a hangover - I'm sure of it. Just what the hell did I commit myself to yesterday to wake up in this state, hm? Sigh, I bet I was at a party - the best thing to do in this shithole. A special fucking opportunity to get drunk and avoid the death penalty for drinking. Fuck yeah! Sigh_._ Just gotta be sure NOT to be late to the next job or - well - you're dead. Best case scenario, the Professor will shove a fucking stick in your ass... a heated, metal stick at that.

Мать твою, head! Can you hurt just a little bit less, I'm trying to think here. Well...the first, and the most obvious reason for my headache - yesterday I was partying hard until the very last bottle of booze: everything still blurring in eyes, legs... ah, perfect - my legs out of order and unresponsive. At least I am lying in a clean, dry bed and not in my own vomit.

_"Darling...I would love to stay and lie still on you for a while, but..." _I barely drew myself and grabbed my hand for the edge.

_"You know better than me: who does not work, he does not live."_

I pull myself closer to the edge and grab it with my second hand. One more push and I fall to the ground. Grunting like some old man I'm trying to rise, using the bed as a support and motivating myself vocaly: "..._come on Richard. Get your lazy old ass up!...until its start to starve to death. And you don't want that, I know."_

Success. I'm up. My vision slowly comes back to normal and I appreciate the room I'm currently in_. _The walls are cracked; the wallpaper is faded, torn off and sometimes even absent; everything's old. The verdict - I'm at home. I can breathe a sigh of relief - in this shithole, I can walk with my eyes closed. Ok...stop looking at the walls. I need to put myself in order and go to work.

Attempts to walk with my own two legs fail – I fall at the very first attempt to get up. Looks like I'll have to crawl to the bath on all fours, like a dog or a cat under valerian.

Upon reaching my "destination", with all my heart I appreciated the fact that I have a toilet and bath in the same bloody room. Ok, back to business. I crawl to the "white throne" and immediately vomit into his "very soul", after which I use as a support to stand up. Perfect...now, next on the list is - Yes. Sink in sight. The Mirror is shattered, distance – 2.5 m. I mumble displeased:_"Ooh...Challenge accepted, you rusty peace of pottery with a broken mirror!"_

From the outside it probably looks very ridiculous and funny. Maybe (this situation/predicament) would make a good video with a title like "drunk as fuck man talking to the bathroom". Ha-ha...very funny. Not.

I inhale deeply, pull out my free hand, and make a dash in the right direction, catching both hands on the sink, and hang onto it. I do not know how miraculous this thing is, but it manages to hold my weight. I quickly take the normal position and turn on the water.

No hot water, only cold, orange water.

I roar, cranking the cranes furiously: "_ An elite research complex capable of withstanding a nuclear war, yet NO ONE can fix the goddamn pipes! Fucking Suka, как же меня заебало это неработающее дерьмо_!_ Fine! I'll use your shit water..._"

I rinse my face and head - the water is disgusting, but at least I feel somewhat better. Well, taking a shower is pointless – we have a "water problem" over here and washing myself in orange admixture of rust and god knows what - that won't make me any cleaner, that's for god damn sure. Na, here's a better idea - I'll just dip my head into the sink and turned on the water.

Yep! That will fix me up in no time. In this position, I'm standing for about 5 minutes now, until the crane begins to monotonously scold me, pointing to the lack of water. Perfect! Just fucking - заебись какой - perfect! No water now and next on the list – no electricity. God, I have to get on the job asap!

After pulling my face from that "shower" I shake my head and... notice from the corner of my eye that there is something stuck to my hair. I'm trying to find this trash and remove it with my hand, but with each movement, I slow down, my face becoming more and more distinctly shocked and confused. What...the hell, I got no hair! Where is - what is this? Something alive, warm and feeling natural. With my fingertips I feel for the tip of this something and lower it to my eyes for consideration.

It is...a tentacle? What? Twitching, reacting, one side white, the other pink. Wait a sec - is that tentacles on MY head?! Nonsense! I double check it with skepticism. But...I feel four of those things growing on my head! Sigh. I really could use a mirror right now, to make sure that I'm not turning into some kind of mutant! No, really, what are those tentacles even doing on MY head?! How is this even possible damn it?! I never asked to turn my head into a hentai simulator! On the other hand, they look long enough to be used as limbs...ah fuck it, I'll deal with it later, my job is waiting!

Remembering about all the possible ways they can execute you for getting late is starting to make me panic lightly. I finally start to walk like a normal, sober person and quickly move back into my room to reach the wardrobe. And here's a new surprise – my normal clothes are gone and what's left is the standard Kamabo Corporation "Fuck You" form. That's what we call it. I like the name, but not the design: Black latkes - no one likes it. I hate it personally. But, I am not gonna walk around naked, so this will do. There are also ID bracelets and some strange looking container/backpack filled with some kind of pink goo. There is no way to open it, and the purpose of this device is a mystery for me. But it looks important. I'll put it on, just in case. Now I am ready to work in shame. Let's go.

I rush out of my "apartment" and am ready to run to the train, but my half drunk brain stops me. Eyes tensed, I peer into the corridor. Strange - all the rest of the doors are sealed, the lighting is weak, many lamps are blinking. Dust. Ok. I can understand many things: the end of the world, the last people on earth, the lack of hands and food, bla-bla-bla. But this is unacceptable! The amount of dust is like in a factory, where one can only walk in a respirator! And I don't have one! I start to walk and cough because of how hard it is to breathe. As I walk closer to the end of the living area, the environment begins to become more - I dunno - ordinary.

The security guards cottage is demolished though - only fragments of metal lying around. The metal door dividing the living areas is smashed; the surveillance cameras do not show signs of life. I pause at the door and examine the edges of the walls to which it isattached. No amount of repairs can help here.

I move to the next area and turn aside. Even after drinking, my memory does not fail me - the map is in place; more precisely, what is left of it. _"You are here" -_ the pointer indicates to a white dot on a colorless piece of paper. Excellent - it's useless. With a sigh, I turn around and go back to the central line of the corridor, under the lamps.

Well, I've got two options here: Cross all four living areas or cut through the cafeteria and quickly slip through the technical tunnel to the station. After some simple thinking I chose option two and move as quickly as I can in this dusty shit hole to the Cafeteria. The sign that is hanging on the right door is barely holding/staying attached and is ready to fall any minute. The door opens only partially, something is propping it. Without a second thought I ram it...again...and again. On the third try the door opens completely, and I fly in with inertia into the big room and look around. This does not look good.

Tables are skewed; everywhere is the barracks and again - not a single. Living. Soul. And dust. Where is everyone dammit? It feels like this place was abandoned for a long – long time. I stand on all fours and decide to see what is blocking the passage, but from the corner of my eye I notice something on the ceiling and look there. What I see are dozens of skeletons with clothes of varying degrees of depravity, hanging on cables that are attached to large iron beams. They're like new year's toys! Well that's a lot of dead people! The professor would be happy... That explains why...I shake my head, tossing away that idea. No, it explains nothing! What kind insane psycho did this? Why? Did he intend to waste time and make this place even more creepy? Well in that case he succeeded/his mission was a success, 'cause just by looking at these cold remnants of the Human race I feel uncomfortable.

Well, looking at this mess brings me fear nor shock; it does not even wake me pose a "WTF IS THIS?!" question. I dunno. It just feels wrong. It looks wrong...just like my hair and my job. Come to think of it, everything in my life for the past 20 years is WRONG. Yeah, thinking about right and wrong won't get me anywhere, I need to find a way out and continue walking to the train station. Alright, let's look around.

After short observation of this dark place I come up with almost nothing: distant parts of the room are not illuminated, but there is a table lamp pointing at something. I come closer and spot a drawing, partly illuminated by this lamp. Interesting. I unfolded the paper to view the drawing.

To the left is a man. From him there is an arc arrow to another person who has strange hair. From him, the same arc arrow, directs to the first person. Between these hands is a telephone. What could this possibly mean? That the psycho was mentally retarded and tried to draw the principle of a phone? Well that does not explain why the second man has this strange - tentacle - hair. Sigh. "_For fucks sake, can somebody fucking explain to me what this is even supposed to mean?! Is this some kind of sick joke?! You do know how they punish people for wasting time!"_

My furious cries echo through the empty corridors. No one replies because there was no one to do so. I keep looking at this "art", overwhelmed by the feeling that this is some kind of message - a warning or an attempt to say something that I do not yet know. But who cares? I take the lamp and light up the dark parts of the room in search of an exit. Here it is. I move there, still glancing at the ceiling. God, I feel sick at the sight of this - this...whatever this is.

Leaving the cafeteria, I exhaled with little relief and moved along the empty corridors, towards the descent into technical tunnel. Questions and attempts to give a logical explanation to all this forced out alcohol, but not a feeling of tension. It only strained the brain more, forcing it to think. I reached the descent into the technical tunnel, but here's the ill luck - the door is welded tight!

"_Fuck!"- _I roared at the door, banging it fiercely. "_Fine, I'll just have to go further down the corridors! Thank you, whoever weld this bloody thing! _" I said to myself and moved on, picking up the pace. Had to make a detour to get back to the entrance to the cafeteria, but from here I can directly reach the station, and then we'll figure it out.

As I moved through the last living area and the transition to the Lobby, I began to notice the traces of bullets on the walls, the blood and...corpses. This makes me uncomfortable. I would love to believe that this is some kind of prank, but I know this is impossible for a variety of reasons:

1) Pranks ≠ job. And who does not work, he does not live. The one fucking rule we all fear and respect!

2) Overlapping the passages, sabotaging the lighting, damaging the walls...hell, taking out the guard's booth and the door! Someone's gonna die for that.

3) Intentional destruction of the ceiling and erection of barricades.

And here is point three in a "very" interesting manner. The lateral corridor is completely blocked by a mesh fence - nah - the fence is fucking welded to the walls. The ceiling is collapsed, some kind of pinkish liquid drips from a dangling pipe. Hm... it looks just like the stuff in my backpack. This liquid is spread over half the corridor. There were only two light sources: a lamp on that side and a littered desk lamp illuminating the wall...and a picture on it. After rolling my eyes, I lifted the lamp and looked at the drawing. Wow, we've got instructions here, with numeration. How cute. So...

Step 1: A man with a tentacles...what, again? Why everything here is obsessed with its anime stuff? Think, Ricky, think. I'll just call this "guy" an Asshole. So, Asshole runs.

Step 2: He dive into a puddle that surrounded the fence. Strange.

Step 3: He...swims over the fence? I don't get it. How is that? Is there a hole or something? Fine...

Step 4: He emerges from it.

Step 5: Just a smile face...

Very informative. I once again "read" this laconic tutorial and moved the lighting to the fence itself, looking at this pink slime. I do not know why, but she attracted me with her appearance, beckoned to her, and in my head a strange instinct seemed to awaken, and began to whisper:

_"Yo, you see that shit? That shit is your best friend right here, called ink. No fucking doubts here, man! It will heal ya, it can revive ya...y'all remember_ _man. Now don't be a pussy and sail away."_

Well... Honestly I got no other options, and my first signs of a mental disorder speak quite convincingly. Let's give it a try. I cautiously went into this color something and immediately left "under the water" with a head. The environment acquired a pink tint, sensations and perceptions changed dramatically to non-transferable. Everything looked and felt as if you had merged with this liquid ... with this ink? Uh...that's confusing. But I can perfectly see her limits, the environment. And why do I thinking about it, as her? Probably it's because of the color.

I see a fence above myself and start slowly swim under it. And it does not seem somehow alien, quite the contrary - everything is so natural and pleasant that I'm here a little bit in the whoa effect from what is happening. Just think of it: you can merge with a fluid of unknown origin and swim across an obstacles just like that. Sounds crazy, right? Just as crazy as that cafeteria and...well, everything so far.

Shit I just noticed! I can breathe in this stuff - that was so exciting, that I lost my track of movement, accidentally emerging from this...ink, and immediately hit the fence with my head. Fuck! That's hurt. Sigh. I lifted my hand and rubbed my bruised forehead, then submerged back and swam through this metal obstacle. On the edge of this slime, I seemed to be pushed out of it. I quickly retreated to the wall and examined myself - no traces of liquefies, chemical burns or something that went beyond the normal. Even clothes still on me...untouched. I would not be offended if it disappeared in this ink. Hmm...and the forehead does not hurt anymore.

Okay, I do not know what happened here ... and what happened to me, but I liked the ink stuff. Wait a second...why I call this stuff ink? I do not know the composition of this garbage! Call it ink, just because your inner voice said so? Well, I don't see the point to disagree.

I gave to this strange tutorial corridor my last look and continue to walk towards the station. It should be nearby. But something tells me, that this is not gonna be easy. Bullet holes and traces of blood on the walls again, floor in the cracks and there is a blood trail, leading somewhere ahead. This is unnerving. Just what the fuck is going on here - and how many times did I ask that question to myself already? Irrelevant...I need to think and move.

The trail has let me to the door near staircase and the lift. Door was slightly opened with a title – _traitors' hall. _I opened it, with expectation of something terrible, but I saw something far worse that I can imagine in my worst dreams.

There was a handmade pillars from scrap - around 12-14, maybe more. And each one of them had god damn fresh corpse attached to it with a small pool of blood near them. I can't fucking believe what I'm seeing here! I.. I slowly take a couple of steps forward, focusing of victims. Just of curiosity and no sense of self preservation with a little laugh, just to make myself even more nervous. This is so wrong, so fucked up.

I looked at one of them...Ah?! Mother of fucking nerfed Mercy...It- it. A human?! No-no-no. Look closer. It look almost like human, but changed! He look like a sick mix between blue and green colors with elven ears and tentacles on their heads. Realization struck me. Do I look like th-t-t-these mutants?! Oh hell no-o-o! This is so wrong on SO MANY fucking levels...I just hope they are dead.

I Know this is a cliche move of a brain every dead teenager from a horror movie, but I'll touch the body jus to make sure and - a flash of pain struck and pushed me away. All the corpses came back to life with lights emitting out of their eyes and mouths! With a painful howl they tried to break free...while looking at me. I started to scream in panic and run away...deeper into this hall. But the pillars never ended! There were more and more and MORE of them with the same twisting ...screaming...undead bodies!

I slipped and fell into the ground, looking into screaming madness, losing hope. Fear already drowned out my cries...Pain infected my brain. And... I started to hear...Their Fury...their Sorrow...their Joy... their End with no will. I lost myself in it...lost control, any sense of my actions. All i saw...all i felt...is them. They want me, to join them...share their fate and find peace into lies of sanitization. But it all ended fast...with a sound of broken stairs and painful hit to the ground.

_Observation suspended..._

_File 10K8V3_C1A1p1 is complete..._

_Awaiting new file..._


	2. Act 1 Part 2: Rise to madness

Act 1: Questionable goal

Part 2: Rise to madness

Darkness is all around me and I am drowning in it. I can't see or feel anything... only hear distant, familiar voices. I don't understand them... and I don't want to. Why would I do that? There is no point trying to listen to echoes of the past. It's only the voices of the dead and those cursed to die slowly, locked deep in the underground. Maybe it's better to embrace the darkness and leave this ugly world of pain... to join the ranks of those who stand on the other side. Come to think of it, that doesn't sound that bad.

Hm, I see something...yes, I can see the light above me. Something suddenly stops this descent and grabs me, starting to pull me back... All voices cried out in despair but one... one unknown to me. I can hear it more clearly every second. It's repeating itself... calling my name...calling for me to wake...up, wake...up...wake up_. _Wake up!

_"Wake Up, Octoling!" _

A blinding light and the sound of a lightning strike brought me back to consciousness. I was in pink, inky goo, pieces of my backpack floating around me. I looked up. There's a giant hole in the ceiling. I look around. I am in the middle of some kind of service room, and there are no possible sources from where that ink could've come from. I think I get it, I broke my backpack from falling, and the ink inside it saved my live...how convenient. But here's a question: what was that in - traitors hall? Those undead bodies, my acting...how the hell did I even end up here? And where the hell am I? I need to get out of- what the?!

Someone grabbed me by the tentacles and pulled my head out of the ink!

"_Who the fu...oh, hi?" _I'm stunned and surprised to see a real, normal, living human! I'm not alone here, yay! But that does not counter the fact that he pulled me out like some kind of fish!

He asking a quite straight question:_ "Finished lying in this pink piss puddle?" _

How do I suppose to react to this?_ "Uh...maybe? I am - uhh - I'm quite surprised to see a normal living human in this shithole." _I make a little pause, trying to find a good question to ask_._

_"Do you happen to know what's happening here? I mean, people are missing, strange shit is happening here.."_

He negatively shakes his head in response_. "Nope, but since you can talk, unlike the other anime fanboys - sons of bitches - I'll interrogate you, like the good gentleman I am."_

_"Wait-wait. What? Interrogating? Me? Why? W-h. Wait... Anime boy? WHAT?!" _A minute has not even passed and my amount of questions already have been doubled!

He just smiled_."He-he-he, that look on your face - priceless. Nah, I'm joking. But, you really do look like one of the anime boys I saw earlier... well, almost like the others"_

I wave my hands in confusion. _"Okay. Wait - you said others?"_

He nods _"Yep! You look like an elf in _a _BDSM suit with makeup around your eyes and hentai on your head. But unlike the others, you can talk and don't look like a low-budget walking dead on vacation."_

Ok. Confusion - lvl up. Seriously. Who is this man? Why is he here...nah, that's a terrible question. I should have been happy for seeing at least someone more or less adequate and alive...What did he said again? I look almost like the others...and the way he describe it. Thinking out loud:

_"Do I really look that ugly?"_

He nod with a smile. "_On the bright side, you can't possibly be uglier than my mother!" _He laughs for a moment there. "O_h, good one. What? Don't give me that look, get up! I am getting out of here. With or without your confused octo face."_ He stopped holding my tentacle - hair and went on his way, out of the room

Sigh. So much for conversation. I left the ink puddle and immediately went after the human, looking around. It looks like a technical tunnel with a number of storage/rest rooms. They stretched for many kilometers, and were quite a popular place for people like me, who just want to hide from working till death and enjoy their life... even if lasted only for a couple of hours. In these tight and dark corridors, with pipes, wires, and poorly working lighting, we were free to have whatever we what: sex, booze, moonshine, homemade weed/drugs and good old morphine from the medical supplies ...some even made burgers from rats a.k.a burat. Everyone loved this doubly harmful fast food. Why? It kills you a little bit faster, and compared with the nasty canned food, they fed us every fucking day - burat is fucking delicious. 12 of out 10. The best local food ever! But all of this has one fatal drawback: if you are caught – you are dead meat.

Today this place is quiet...too quiet. No talking, walking, muffled groans or sounds of working BBQ near the ventilation. He can't possibly have killed everyone here. Or can he? That thought terrifies me - what if he'd gone completely insane and murdered almost everyone here? That would explain the bodies, but what about me? What about those mutants? In any case we are going...somewhere, and my companion is silent as grave. Maybe I really should talk to him a bit more, try to get some answers.

I cough to get his attention_. "You know, this place is - or was quite popular. I wonder what happened to people? Where is everyone?"_

_"They died...probably. Hm, now that you mention it, how can you possibly know about this "illegal business" ?" _He briefly looked at me_ and continued moving forward._

_"You are not human, you know..."_

Is he trying to insult me or something? I answer with a little discontent in my voice:

_"Nonsense!_ I_ am a human! I work in this "lovely facility" as an Electrical Engineer in sector A. Or I was, considering the situation and thing I saw for the last hour...or two. My name is.."_

He interrupted me_. "Whatever you say, anime fanboy. But I'm not interested in your name or your"past". I need information and a working CQ -80."_

He stopped and looked at me. To be honest - that look in his eyes is creeping me out a little . But I did not give sight of that. I just shook my head with a faint smileand replied:

_"Yeah, we always used them to navigate in these tunnels, cus otherwise it's easy to get lost." _I take a short pause to draw a sigh with sorrow_. "We are fucked without a navigation."_

He stopped and looked at me. _"Are you starving to death? Deathly dehydrated? Have any bad or bleeding wounds? No? Then calm down, get your shit together and move on. You are no use for me if you're dead."_

I didn't say anything in response. We just continued to walk in complete silence, both of us immersed in our own thoughts.

Endless lines of pipes, wires, and concrete; empty rooms and no signs of life or possible directions to take. Nothing to talk about with this mean, unfamiliar asshole... It all continued for an hour or more, until we finally found an empty lift shaft. I looked inside it. The elevator was stuck at the top; a ladder is in its place - it looks okay. How (un)lucky we are. I pointed at the ladder. The man nodded in response and we started to climb up. Every floor was closed, so we entered the elevator from the emergency exit on the top.

The door was open, and there was a nasty scene before our eyes: the gray, boring office corridors were covered with writing, written with a greenish oil paint that glowed in the dark. The walls, the floor - hell - even the ceiling - the mutilated numbers covered it all. Not as terrifying as cafeteria or that "Traitors Hall" but still, this place give me the creeps. The man, on the other hand... I think he doesn't even care. He slowly started walking forward, looking at all that with interest:

_"Is this what you looking for?"_ I asked him, looking at the writing. Never saw that language.. yet somehow I understand it like English. Like - I dunno, like something in my mind translate that for me. I started to read some of the notes:

"Subject #16 - Heart attack. Replace.

Subject # 25 – Brain damage. Improve the operation process.

Subject # 151 – Madness and attempted of suicide. Sanitize

Subject# 306 – Found his way to the Promised Land. Success at last

"_Could you shut up for a sec!" _he interrupted me, hissing_. " I hear something, come on here."_

And he was right. There were unknown, somewhat distant sounds. Something between...struggling, punching, moaning and indistinct murmuring. Something is happening there and сuriosity beckons me there. I don't know what to do.

The man briefly looked at me and immediately went ahead, interested. I followed him. A bad idea- a bad idea! It took us mere seconds before we reached the source of those sounds. And just wha - holy shit, this is something unexpected: two of those..twisted nonhumans I saw in that cursed hall were in the middle of beating the living shit out of each other.

They fought violently, issuing hoarse synthetic sounds that only remotely resemble pain; if they can even feel it. Their bodies were covered in wounds, bleeding blue, artificial blood - it's everywhere! I do not know why they fight or how long their fighting lasts, but in mere seconds one of them grabbed an opponent's head and started rapidly smashing it against the wall with the squishy sound of flesh and brains turning into a blood-soaked chop...brutal! The struggles ended. The killer tossed the "headless" body aside and started walking away, twitching and convulsing, muttering something.

This whole time we were watching. Silently, terrified and filled with with excitement...at least I was. There was always something deep, primal in humanity, something that led us to violence against each other.. that aroused the thirst to see the blood, pain, and suffering of others and root for it. This is probably what I feel now - a strange satisfaction, looking at this mess. Blood everywhere, the body is still twitching, the wall cracked. And I catch myself thinking that I want more...I need more. Yes, let them kill each other in desperation...tear out guts, rip away throats...drown their pain and sorrow in blood of their friends and just before they die in agony, tell them, that Octavio says "hi" with a slow, deep maniacal laugh.

Wait! Wait-wait-wait...what was that just now? I've never had that kind of violent thoughts..brutal thoughts even..

_"You have now." _The man replied like he knew, what I was thinking about. I immediately looked at him, surprised and nervously responding.

_"What!? How the hell.."_

_"You're talking to yourself. Never noticed that?"_

_"Oh...did I?" _Well, shit. That's embarrassing revelation.

He nodded with continued casually: "_It really is._ _All this time. Every. Single. Word. You are like walking diary."_

I turned away and started to walk down the corridor, blushing and covering my face with shame.

_"Hey, don't feel bad about it. At least your endless monologue keeps me entertained." _He smiled, but I didn't see anything funny about it. We in a middle of HUGE underground facility, all humans have disappeared, with some strange human like creatures lurking around and fucking each other for no good reason and...

_"Speaking of fucking each other." He interrupted me again, with obvious sarcasm in his tone:_

_"That body we left behind is still warm and free of charge. Wanna go back and have some sweet relations with it? Or you afraid it will come back to life and top you ?" _

He started to laugh like a damn maniac...And I gotta admit, this guy is pissing me off! I looked at him with all my disrespect and disgust, wanting to say couple of "fuck you" type of cliche words and kill him, but what's the point? It's clear, that he is insane or this is his own very dark and twisted humor. I just showed him my middle finger and continued to walk. And now I am thinking about that idea of his - God, hell no! I'll kill myself faster than I'd agree to do something like that.

We continued to advance through corridors and offices defaced by the all the same "notes". Luckily, I know this part of sector A, so now we were definitely close to the damn train station. I am hungry, tired and angry. And all I've got so dar is a bunch of questions and that crazy asshole. He just follows me, ignoring my questions and trying to taunt me with sick jokes about my hair, sex or other topics I am not okay with. I don't even know what else to say about him or this situation. Today is probably worst day in my life. And he's about to try to cheer me up a bit:

_"Hey, don't look so grim, I'm actually trying to lighten up the mood a bit.."_

Hmh. Sure. I'll just give his straight answer. "_And I am actually trying to think here and understand what in the name of Great and powerful KING of Remixes and Squid Sisters Brainfucking DJ Octavio is GOING ON HERE! King please, I need some answers!..." _

Hold on a sec, the fuck did I just said?

_"You need to pay for "spoiling the fuck out of this story" DLC first...oh, wait. You don't have money in the first place!"_

He's mocking and confusing me with...EA meme? What?! looked at him with a misunderstanding.

_"Seriously? Puns about wallet fucking? Or do..do you think this is some kind of game?!"_

He made a smart face and "thought" for a second, before giving a short reply:

_"...actually yea!"_

One sigh and facepalm later_ "Oh my fucking Buddha...you know what? I'm done talking with you, Asshole!"_

_"Thank you! It's nice to be called by your name, is not it...Richard?"_

I stopped, shocked by the last words he said.

_"How... the fuck do you know my name?" _

I said it with an understated tone, looking at his crazy smiling face with horror and fear. Just who the fuck is this man?! But he didn't reply to my question..he started his own little speech while walking forward and laughing:

"_There are a LOT of things and enemies you need to remember, if you want to get out of here alive with all nine limbs intact. I'll help where i can, but you'll do the heavy lifting. Why? Because I said so. Btw, call me Asshole...agent Asshole. And don't ask why! I just fucking love that ridiculous name!" _He giggled, covering his smile.

_"And you, my terrified and totally sane friend...You'll understand why I know you - later. But for now I'll just call you Agent Eighth for no good reason... HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR!?" _I just nodded nervously, unable to say something.

"_Good boy! Now, prossed on the double to the train...I bet that sea slug son of a bitch Test Fail Simulator is waiting for us...God I hate him."_

From that point I was silent...this Agent Asshole, as he called himself, was unpredictable insane piece of immoral shit - Combo! Who knows what he'll do next? Rape me? Kill me?! Tell more stupid jokes? This day is getting worse and worse...and I would have came up with even more nasty scenarios, but fortunately my thoughts diluted the distant sound of the approaching train. I rushed forward and saw it: we've reached the train station, finally! And there's the train opening its doors for me! But I don't see anyone inside it...or around it. And here I thought I'll be able to find someone and answer some of my questions...sigh. We proceeded into the train.

The doors automatically closed behind us and train began to move. Automated systems and a ghost train - totally not creepy at all. I sat down and threw back my head. I need a rest. I looked around. Light and air conditioning are normal, the seats are rubbed, but they are still comfortable to sit on. The man...agent Asshole, sat opposite me, putting his arms behind his looked at the door at the end of the carriage and said:

_"Don't mention me or look in my direction. Satan is coming_..."

Before I said anything in response, the doors opened with a - uh - tiny blue sea slug with a hat moving in our direction. He moved to our car and stopped:

"_Test subject..you're three hours late. How is your condition?"_

I gave the most logical answer possible:

"_A...a...how t...talking Sea slug?! I-I don't wanna know. Just explain this: what the fuck is going on here? Where is everyone? Why do I look like an octo shit? Am I going insane? And who is this man?!" _I pointed at agent a...where did he go?! He vanished! How?!

The Sea slug replied like it was nothing new to him.

_"You are confused and have a lot of question. Also, you managed to lose your ink tank. We'll replace it later. I am your humble conductor - C.Q. Cumber. We're in a gigantic underground research facility, operated by Kamabo Corporation.."_

_I interrupt him with disapproving tone._

_"Yea, I already know that, captain obvious! I'm working here!" _

_"Your memory integration is better than expected, then. Please understand. You are the part of a test program. Don't worry about your appearance and possible physical changes..worry about your performance. We should reach the first Test Chamber in two hours. Go to the back of the Train. Your equipment and provision is waiting for you there._"

He turned around and started to walk away, completely ignoring my questions, leaving me in complete confusion, mixed with fatigue and anger. Not only I not get any answer to my question, but now I have even more of them! And I managed to lose that psycho - sigh, call it good news... I guess. I feel so exhausted from all this - my brain is begging for a bottle of booze, to shut up and stop thinking for a while. I just sit down on the nearest seat. I think I'll take a little nap. And all this bullshit will be gone like a bad dream. I threw back my head and closed my eyes... they feel so heavy... reality feels so hard and unreal... just let it fuck itself...

_Observation suspended..._

_File 10K8V3_C1A1p2 is complete..._

_Awaiting new file..._


	3. Act 1 Part 3: Highway of confus

Act 1: Questionable goal

Part 3: Highway of confusion

Hollow ground, fog... and no horizon. I can't relax, can't forget what I just saw. Questions intrude my mind - I feel sick. Almost as if I'm drowning in my own thoughts. A distant light shines, revealing a figure - a silhouette. I can see it. It's...a woman. Beautiful, strong. An angel descended to Earth. She's slowly walking to me - I can see her lips moving, hear her distant voice, but I can't understand her. What is she saying? It sounds like I've heard it somewhere before. Is she trying to warn me about something? It sounds important... almost urgent. I try to tell her that I don't understand her. But instead, I'm speaking with an unknown voice and static... like an old, loud radio:_ "She is your optional objective. Eliminate her only if you get visual contact...we'll deal with her later anyway. Your primary goal is..." _and it stops.

The woman is right in front of me and she is angry. Was it about her? Why?_ "What did you do to deserve this? Why am I involved_?"

I try to ask her in confusion, but it's no use. She looks at me. Her beautiful, semi-closed green eyes are filled with disgust and hate. She slowly raises her weapon. The fog around us is turning into blazing flames. She aims directly at my head, her finger on the trigger and ready to fire. But before she shoots - she asks me... with _my_ own voice: "_How can such angel turn into this cold inked monster? What was the point of all this?"_ A single shot and I'm lying on the ground. Undead and defeated, burning alive, while looking at her as she slowly walks away, disappearing in the light of an emerging Black Sun...

I come to, lying on the cold floor of the train. Grrrh... my head! It's like someone filled it with alcohol, then smashed it into a wall, over and over and over... but I am as sober as I can possibly be! I start to stand up and see a drop of blood on the floor. Where did that come from? Hm... I can taste it with my mouth... there's blood on my lips! Ah shit, my nose is bleeding! I immediately wipe it off. I think it's has something to do with my pressure - craniocerebral pressure - if I am not mistaken...ah, who cares.

Anyway, what was that dream about? I can still hear that strange, confusing question; the other voice, but I can't turn them into something coherent. It's like a noise, a sound that means nothing. Sigh. I guess it's just another thing to be marked with a question mark, left to plague my mind. The train's not moving, and one door is open. I stepped out into a preparation room.

Reinforced bullet - and bullshit - proof glass, an equipment panel in the middle, a checkpoint with a card requirement to pass... a boxie! Wait... why am I so excited about this cardboard piece of rubbish? Never mind.

This sea slug... CQ Cumber is standing near the checkpoint, staring at me with his nonexistent eyes and waiting. And here's my man, agent Asshole himself, standing on the opposite side, leaning against a wall. He just points at the box."_Don't mind me. I'll keep radio contact with you... just grab your gear, listen to whatever this gloving bug has to tell you, and get the job done!"_

I don't respond and open the box instead. There's some kind of watch, a new backpack, a CQ 80 and a card. Now we're talking! While I was busy fitting on my new goods, Sea Slug gave me his instructions. _"Your goal is to go throw all checkpoints and eliminate any enemy resistance along the way."_

I stopped for a second and looked at him_. "Enemy...resistance? What kind of enemies? And how do I supposed to defeat them!? By telling bad puns?"_

_"Step on the middle panel and choose your weapon..."_

_"...via holographic dispenser. Yeeeah... I remember this tech. One time the boys and I spent days trying to repair one... but hey!" _I shrugged._ "It can create stuff by bending the sunlight spectrum... or something along the lines. Science!... Kinda."_

I finish "dressing up" and stepped into the equipment punnel. It immediately closed up around me, leaving me in a slowly spinning cylinder with scanners and a holo interface, showing me only one option: some kind of Splattershot with a Splat Bomb. Er... this... looks exactly like a kids toy. And let me guess, its doesn't shoot deadly bullets, burning plasma or flaming lava... ah well.I press the button and voila! I have a kid gun for adults. I hope it shoots something actually dangerous, like acid or flames. Why not give it a spin? There's a dummy standing nearby. I raise the gun, point it at the target and pull the trigger. Frankly, it's rather disappointing.

This weapon is so light, I can use it with one hand. It's got no recoil, no power, no oomph... and it shoots pink ink - yep, a weapon for kids. I can't help but sigh. Is this some kind of sick joke? Where are the real guns?! I could use a LGN 2v magma shotgun right now. Damn, I've always liked that gun. Three spinning barrels, all of which shoot multiple shards of molten metal! And I haven't even started on the customization options... ugh, why didn't I join the military when I had the chance?! To fucking work with it, I'm wasting my time standing here and thinking about the gun I never got to hold! I shake my head, walk up to the checkpoint doors and activate them with my new card. The doors open. Let the testing begin. A short walkway, then the entrance of a giant sphere. We used them to generate the environment for various tests and simulations... sigh, repairing them is one hell of a job. I step inside.

The area was some kind of artificial forest with Inflatable rubber trees and grass..from the same material. I raise my "gun" with both hands and start slowly moving forward, looking around. There's no music, no extraneous noise, only the sound of my breath harmonizing with my shoes slapping against the floor. The CQ-80 suddenly starts transmitting audio. The communicator's on, and I can hear that damn "agent".

_"You won't believe what I found! 50 terabytes of porn, memes and Half Life 'more than two, less than four;! Ha-ha...ah, bloody FUCK! IT'S VR ONLY!" _There's the sound of a distant rage quiet and quite a bit of screaming, most of it being some strong profanity that I can barely make out. Not that I'd want to.

"_Look...do you have anything better to talk about, like... I dunno - some actually useful advice? Your screaming is not helping here, asshole."_

He takes a deep breath_. _"_Yes..yes...Count to four. Inhale. Count to four. Exhale. Alright."_

_"Why, thank you. That was very helpful."_

_"That was for myself, you fish maggot! Just relax, look at your watches. They show your current ink supply. It won't refill itself so don't waste it. And... hold on for a sec."_ He switches to talking with that CQ Cumber sea slug thing. Ah, to hell with them! I can't figure out what they're talking about anyway. Besides, I've got this "test" to finish.

I fire a couple times, remembering that corridor with ink and the metal fence. Yeah... this "Splattershot"'s definitely not designed for long-range combat. Definitely short-range to medium at max. And it looks like this gun shoots with the same kind of strange ink - my leg is submerged when I try to step in it. Damn, that stuff is weird! On the other hand, I think it's for the best - I can use it to hide, heal or go throw something... maybe even "refill" this so called ink supply. I'd like to ask more about that later, and save some ink for now.

I reach the first checkpoint and activate it. It looks just like the one in the preparation room - a small, circle bathtub filled with ink. I quickly submerged in it and took a look at my watch. I don't even know how, but I can perfectly see them while in here. The ink supply quickly refiled itself, reaching its max in a few seconds...well, there wasn't much missing in the first place. Checkpoints refill ink - noted. I climb out until I'm waist-high, with weapon at the ready. The coast seems clear, but I can hear distant noises... I'm not alone.

I turn my CQ 80 off so not to get distracted by Asshole, then I emerge completely, then rapidly keep moving forward, from tree to tree, using each as cover. _Focus, and listen. Keep your eyes peeled. Remember how you used to play strikeball. Deep inhale. Slow exhale. Swim through the ink, and be ready to toss splat bombs as a distraction or smoke them out their position and rush till they're splatted._ _There's no cover fire from chargers, I've gotta flank alone. _Rrgh...what in the name of the Zapfish am I thinking about?! Cover, distractions... I'm not a soldier! I'm a 40 year-old nerd with a paint gun!

I abandoned that "from cover to cover" bullshit and went straight for the next checkpoint. Or that is what I wanted to do. Some strange looking thing just came out of nowhere with a fading electric sound and digital pixels. I've seen it before... in the Traitors' Hall... in that corridor outside the offices. This is one of those mutants - but - what IS it doing here?! It has the same weapon as mine. His - her - its movement is unnatural. It's twitchig like it's forced to move... almost like a zombie. It's shaking, without any expression, its eyes unfocused, and its mouth is slowly bleeding with something blue, probably blood.

Hold on a second... isn't that supposed to be ene - Sudden pain strike, rabidly spreading all over me. Hoarse, deep inhales and coughing. I look at my body, shocked and terrified. It happened so quickly, I can feel my body torn from the inside like a pressure ball. My sight is fading rapidly... and I fall into darkness.

Moments later, I'm rising from the ink, the scream of a madman - my own screaming - sounding around me. Panicked, I look around in terror, in confustion. _"What?! How?! Where?! Aaaaaaaa! What the fuck was that?!"_

_"You died, slowpoke! And welcome back to land of living, you lucky tentacle motherfucker!" _My CQ-80, active again, rings with the voice of Agent Asshole.

It only takes a moment for its meaning to sink in.

_"I DIED?!THAT'S... H-h...HOW THE...HOW THE ACTUAL FUCK AM I STILL ALIVE THEN?! HOW DID THAT THING KILL ME?! This is just a dream, isn't it? THIS IS JUST A BAD DREAM!"_

I take a deep breath. _"Keep it cool, keep it coool, don't panic. You just have to wake up and this is all be over...right? RIGHT?!"_

_"Jeez, stop fucking screaming, you banshee! You died, you respawned, and now you live again. How? I dunno... magic! A wizard did it! Deal with it! Now, want my advice?"_

I look down at my hands - they're clean, no sight of that cerulean stuff that tore me apart. _"I... was killed by paint."_ My voice is barely a whisper by now.

_"DO YOU WANT MY FUCKNIG ADVICE OR NOT_?!" His scream snaps me out of my thoughts.

_"What?! Yes! Yes, please ...just tell me everything."_

_"Finally. First: don't waste your time examining the enemy, don't feel sorry for them or they'll end your life! It's the second time you fucked up like that. Second! Your respawns are limited. So if I were you, I would be careful about dying. Third! Ink the shit out of everything and swim through it like the fucking octopus you are! Don't give me that shit about limited ink! Just submerge and refill it, you blithering idiot!"_

_"Jeez. Thanks, I guess?"_

_"YOU'RE GODDAMN WELCOME! HELPING IDIOTS LIKE YOU IS THE SECOND WORST THING IN THE WORLD! Ahem. Now, please do us a favor and kill that anime fanboy, you son of a bitch!"_

I look at myself again. This disgusting uniform this magenta ink. Sighing, I switch my view to the distant target, my twitching "killer". Part of me is screaming in panic, not knowing what just happened and what to do about it. Well, my other part wants revenge, and it's too god damn confident about it. I check my useless gun, jump out the checkpoint and focus on the goal. If that zombie shit kills me again, mark my goddamn words - I will beat the living crap out of it until it's dead on the floor. I start moving forward, gun at the ready. It should be near... ah, there you go! It's standing in the same place as before - probably waiting for me. But this time, I know what to do.

I immediately open fire and dash away, dodging its attack. That thing may be standing like dummy, yet half my shots aren't even hitting it! To make it worse, it's not dying as easily as I did! Fuck! Fuuuuck! I continue moving, changing my position, and keep up a steady assault. Annoying piece of shit, how does that thing even understand that I'm shooting at it?! It's just slowly walking in my general direction and shooting, even though I'm clearly out of its range.

I reflexively throw a pink grenade right at its feet. BOOM! Pink ink covers its body, halting all movement. Good. Now I can finish you off, you ugly, mutant thing. I raise my gun, pull the trigger and... click. Click. Rapid clicking. What? It's not shooting?! Fuck! I quickly check the watches and of fucking course I'm out of ammo... ink... inkmo... whatever! I'm out of it! I run back to the checkpoint as fast as i can, constantly falling into puddles, and turning back in fear. Hey, I don't want to be shot in the back! Just a couple more seconds and god damn.

I feel huge relief climbing back into that warm, refreshing bath of ink like a scared kitten. Yes. It may seem ridiculous and stupid, but this is my little safe zone, my fortress of... me. I popped out with my gun, aiming, but there's no one to shoot at. But i'm not stupid. It can show up any second now, and it WILL try to kill me, just you wait!

I spend 5 minutes just sitting and aiming like they were taught in the trenches, waiting for the enemy. It didn't show up. Perhaps my pathetic emotional revenge/assassination insulted it... or did I actually kill it? Am I wasting my time, waiting for no one to show up? Both cases kinda suck. Either I'm stupid, or I'm stupid AND blind...

Now is the worst time for my belly to arrogantly remind me of my hunger. Yes, stomach, me want food. Me wait, me complete test, me gets nom- nom, I thought, giggling to myself. It would be funny if my organs were sentient. Na, that would be ridiculous. On the other hand there was a Fallout game...Hold oh a sec! I can refill ink anywhere I can!...and I completely forgot about it while dealing with that prick!? I scream at myself in anger and shame! I'm such an idiot! I just want to say to myself: "_The burning you feel..it is shame._" Such a good quote. Welp, I'm not planning to sit here all day and starve to death, so I got out with a full ink supply at the ready and slowly proceeded to the goal... again.

The enemy is gone, I guess, but the passage is covered in blue-green ink...or oil, i can't really tell the difference. Maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I can't shake the feeling that stepping into this stuff is NOT a good idea. No, it's just my useless paranoia; contact with paint can't be harmful until you try to breathe it for some time. Ah, to fuck with it! YOLO! I step into that stuff... but instead of swallowing my leg it did something a little different.

_"ffffffaaAAAAaaa-ha-ha-hack! IT BURNS! It burns!... through MY shoes!"_God fucking..."_PAIN_! _RRRGHAAAaaaa, can't pull my leg out_! _That...was..a BAD IDEA! Bad_..."

A sudden explosion of pink ink pushes me away and frees up my leg. Breathing heavily, I close my eyes in shock. Count to four. Inhale. Count to four. Exhale. Another deep inhale and slow sigh. Don't panic..it's just paint. Paint and mutants trying to kill you in an abandoned post apocalyptic underground hell. Quiet nervous laugh...I open my eyes and look at my leg - it's perfectly fine! And what about that killing green shit? Ah, I see. Looks like while I was dying in panic, one that "splatbombs" detached and detonated. Guess I got lucky there. I stand up and start to ink the ground with the weapon, making a safe passage for me...and it works! I notice that my ink supply is refilling while I'm standing in my ink... I keep forgetting about that.

I reach the last checkpoint and the exit gate without any new encounters with that mutant or this acid ink... yea, I can't come up with a better name for that shit. The gate opens, playing pre-recorded message from the announcement system: "_All goals achieved. Test passed." _At least now I don't need to walk through this jungle with all that ink and all those trees.

The only way back is to walk through the catwalk ahead. There are a lot of windows, but not much to look at: the sphere I just left, the endless black abyss below us...well, not exactly. If I recall correctly, this place were a giant salt mine for some time. And then this big hollow space was used to build this all this testing areas. eighth per shaft, ten mines - that means eighty tests total. Portal can be one hell of a inspiration, but we took it two steps farther: One sphere can contain up to three test chambers at the same time - we have holographic tech.

Hm... I stopped, looking down at the abyss. Maybe all this just a part of the test. And I'm in the test chamber testing some kind of VR simulation? No. No, we don't have that kind of technology, but then what kind of experiment is that supposed to be then? I'm thinking too much. So instead of wasting my time and energy looking at nothing, or thinking to the point of insanity, I just continued to walk until I reached the exit room.

There was a holographic dispenser - it's quite obvious why _that's_ there. I step on it and let it take my useless gun away. And then...what's this? It looks like a small plastic toy. I carefully inspect it. Yep, it really looks like a little toy for kids. I...I'll just take it as little gift. I've got enough questions in my head either way. Sigh, good thing the train is still here and waiting. I walk inside and look around. Sea slug - check. Asshole watching porn - check. Smell of food - che...food? _Sniff_. FOOD! I would kill for a snack right now! _Sniff_. I can smell you... over there! I rush to the door into the next car. The door quickly opens and HOLY MOTHER OF MY PRIMARY NEEDS!

*1 hour later*

Ohh...I don't think my stomach can take any more of it. Meat, buckwheat, sushi. We never had that many high quality snacks here back then. 'Twas a fucking provision genocide, he-ehe. Yep, let them complain, I'm refueled, happy, and not going to give a shit about portions of food and their distribution. Huh, now to think of it, when was the last time I had a meal? I lifted my head to the ceiling, thinking. Uhhhgh...when? When... when... when? Nothing comes to mind. Maybe I forgot. Strange. I also can't remember what happened yesterday...and the day before that. I put a hand to my forehead, sighing. Back to the reality of unknown and its super confusing bullshit. And I'm managing to keep my shit together. Miracle by my standards.

I slowly move to the main carriage and sit on the nearest seat. The train wouldn't reach the next station for half an hour, no less.

_"Sea Slug, where are we going?" _I asked with little to no excitement about what's waiting for me up ahead.

_"C.Q. Cumber. Please call me by my name. And we are currently traveling to line A, test chamber 2. Did you enjoy your meal?"_

I just give him a thumbs up. Don't really wanna continue this conversation with this sentient abomination. I don't even ask HOW that thing existing is possible. And that thing is "walking" away - more like sliding away. Oh, one last thing.

_"Agent, мать твою в сраку, Asshole!" _After insulting him in two languages, I turned my attention to the "busy" passenger. "_Could you stop disrespecting me and stop watching porn with no sound?!"_

_"And then what I supposed to do? Polish your tiny sausage? Clean up your black hole? No? Then shut the fuck up and keep your "oh senpai" tentacle anime bullshit away from my sacred mute porn! Or I'll eat your tentacles...they look so tasty."_

_"Oh no you don't!" _I said as menacingly as I could, raising my fists_."Leave my strange hair alone!"_

_"You are pretty damn hilarious, little octo Limp dick"_

_"ЧЕГО БЛЯТЬ?" -_ I roared in pure Russian anger at such an insult_. "Why I never! No I am not into that stuff, you perve! Be kind and politely go fuck yourself!"_

_"Ha-ha-ha-a! You should see your face! Ha-ha, ohho-ho...your expression are killing me, bad boy!"_

_"I can give you more that a couple of laughs! Hint: It involves your face and my fist."_

_"Oh! Oh master, I fucked up. Oh master I deserve a punishment!" _Oh god, he's literally crawling to me, acting as a some kind of BDSM slave! I didn't sign up for this shit! And he keeps doing that!

_"Splat da-a fucking away for me, y-yyou insane inkli...wait. I mean... what the mother fucking the fuck is wrong with me?! JACKASS!"_

The train slowed abruptly sending me to the floor. Fuck..augh. A power surge turned off the lights for a moment. One, two, three. Here we go, the lights are back o...hold on. I'm looking around, trying to find that son of a crazy bitch to organize a meeting between his face and my foot - but he's gone! Again?! Oh come on! This is unfair! He gets to annoy me AND be practically unharmable! Why are we stopping anyway?!

I cautiously got off the train and saw... of course. I sighed. Sea Slug is back.

"_Let me guess: tests?"_

_"Absolutely right, test subject. This time, the holographic dispenser is not operational. For this test all you need is agility, speed and an ability to think 'on the fly' as they say."_

_"I don't really...ok, just give a better explanation and be done with it. And where is that Asshole?"_

_"Pardon me, who?"_

I turn to him in surprise._ "Agent asshole. That human pidor with no respect to others_, _no_?"

The sea slug didn't reply. I could practically feel the awkwardness intensifying.

_"Riiiight...never mind. I'll just go throw the doors, achieve the questionable goal of your tests, and get the hell outta here. Like, seriously, what are you testing here? I'm not even asking questions like 'WTF ARE YOU'! Or 'What the fuck is wrong with me'!" _

There was a pause as the sea slug thought for a moment. "_Not me. Not now. I'm just doing my job and I would highly recommend for you to do the same. All your questions will be answered once you reach the Promised Land. Now go."_

I decide not to waste my time with more questions and opened the checkpoint doors, moving into the next testing sphere and thinking. Promised Land. It's the second time I've encountered this word, and I know that it's something very important. Something I know or knew. Yet my brain refuses to remember it for whatever reason. Fucking gray matter treacherous muscle in a bone jar! Work, damn it! Some people say that the brain is a biological supercomputer with potential we have yet to unlock. If that's the true, I need a tech expert, some diagnostics and probably exorcists, 'cause having a living tentacles instead of hair, periodically talking about things I don't even understand, interacting with paint and DYING from it is NOT OKAY!

Well...I'm here. The second test chamber. Looks like a platformer like Mario or something. Hm. Multiple floating platforms of different size and varying obstacles placed on them. I slowly walk up to some kind of ink pad, analyzing the situation. What's there to analyze? They want me to...

_"They want you to run like an old hungry nigga on the run for a hot chicken in KFC, muha-ha!" _Well, there goes my good mood. Not that there was much of one in the first place.

"_And our mysterious agent Asshole is interrupting me via CQ-80 yet again. What do you want, kozel?"_

_"I'm not a beer!"_

_"Nope, but you are a racist!"_

_"Ahh! I see. So you need some tolerance so they won't drown your little bit of poetry in an ocean of shit? Ok boss. Ape then!"_

I looked at my CQ 80, taking a sec to come up with a reply._ "At this rate I'll be the one who'll drown you in ocean of shit. Racism!"_

_"Ffffff...fine. Black man."_

I shake my head with a faint smile_ "Na-ah. Try again."_

_"O-o-oooooh come on!" _Now he's pissed off. My little revenge for that moment in the train is in effect._ "RRGH. FINE! Free man of a GREAT and powerful America with a black skin tone! Are you happy?!"_

I nod with a smirk. _"That's better."_

_"I was about to give you some advice about that test, but you know what? Fuck you, figure it out by yourself."_

That was a really helpful conversation. Not. Enough distractions! I'm approaching so kind of ink pad. Well, it looks like a small ink vortex. And there is no other way to get to the other side, so... I crouch next to this thing and - really carefully - poke it with a finger. I ended up with a rather interesting reaction. My finger gets itself covered in ink and is now trying to suck itself into this vortex along with the rest of my hand. I do not want to crawl into ink toilets... or whatever this soul-sucking thing is. But I don't see any other options, so, with my eyes closed, I reach my hand deeper into that -WHOA-whoa-whoa! Hold my fucking horses! That shit is consuming my entire body like I down a wineglass of vodka! And I am not vodka! I try to stand up and pull myself out, but the suction is too damn strong!

Before I even realise what just happened, it launches me in the direction of the nearest platform like a cannonball. My initial fear and shock immediately changed into a burst of adrenaline, a feeling of joy and an absurdly large amount of screaming: "_Whaat da faaaaa-HA-HA-HA-AAA!FLY-Y-YING! I. AM. FLYI-" _Boom! That was a short, but HECKIN' fun flight. Too bad it ended with my body crashing into the ground, leaving an ink puddle from which I immediately got up from. I have no idea what that flying was, but I want to do it again!

A little ding switches my attention to my watches. _Oh no_. The test has already started and I don't have much time left! I dash forward, beginning to run as fast as I possibly can. This area is like a maze of cubes, all of them different sizes with pointing arrows showing where I should go. _Run, turn there, turn here, jump over that block. Steady your breath, focus your eyes and keep that angry grin on your face._ I never liked sports, and now here I am, running like a lab rat! Slide! _Rghaa, that was too close. One must be careful when runni-_ and I slam straight into a fence. I fall on my back. My head screams at me in pain, shrieking in my ears, worsening my blurry vision - ooohh, fuck. I think I'm having a concussion. I try to sit down and look around. I can barely see shit.

_"Who...put the fu-king fence over here?!"_ I point at the metal fence that kicked my ass, despite being an inanimate object. Meanwhile the watches continue their countdown. The voice of C.Q. Cumber began ringing from my CQ-80.

"9. 8.7..."

_"What a shame,"_ I groan.

"6.5.4."

_"It's my destiny to fail the important tasks..."_

_"_3.2.1.."

I moan in pain.

_"0. You ran out of time. Test failed."_

In confusion, I didn't even notice the beeping sound and the explosion of green ink right behind me. Everything faded out for a second, before I came to in the beginning of the test track in the checkpoint ink bath. My confusion and pain is fading away. And the watches starting to count down again. Ah, perfect! Absolutely bloody perfect! I didn't even notice that I died and they're already forcing me to push forward! God damn you all!

And now I'm on the run once again. This time, I'm trying my best to look where I'm going and not fuck up like last time. Jump! It's kinda ironic. I was dreaming about running away from this boring life in the underground, to forget all my troubles and have fun. And now I am literally running like Usain Bolt in the Box maze, controlled by that damn sea slug! Ah, fuck. _Dead end! Turn back and keep running like some kind of pig from hell!_ I don't care if this is the right way to keep going or if I'm cheating, but I'm gonna use these boxes to climb up. If you can't go through the obstacle, just go around it. And here is a fun surprise - there was a damn checkpoint on the top of that maze this whole time! The arrows were leading me into a dead end the entire time! My watches notified me with "goo̕d news" this time - additional time has been added to the clock, but there is no time to breathe and plan my next move. I have no choice but to keep pushing forward, jumping from one small floating platform to another. There is no room for mistakes. Either I die or run out of time A͟ND͠ die!

A couple more jumps and I'm landing near a second checkpoint, activating it, my watches notifying me about the additional time I go͘t̷. And now I have a new maze to deal with! With the goddamn entrance that I just passed and...Ne nu Tvou mat! Instead of boxes, now there are transparent walls with a roof of the same material! I̴҉ ̶͠ḑ͢o̢̕͞n'͟t̴ ̀͘͡h̶́a͏v̢͟͢e͏͟ time to get lost in that sinuous corridor of "fuck your perception"! Ah, I have an idea - just ram into it - it's just glass! I charge in and crash into the wall with all my momentum. And of course i͏t ̨didn͡'t̨ w̸or͏k͞. Ggggaar! What's the point of testing here anyway?! I proceed deeper into that shitty maze, knowing that I'll probably get lost there and face death once again. But suddenly, an announcement alert pauses the countdown. A sy͝n̡t̡h̸e̷tic voice̡ ͝s̢tąŕts t͢o speak: _U.A.C.U. speaking_. _Test subject #10_0008_V3. You are suspended from completing Test Chamber 2 of lane A and taking any further attempt to complete other tests until you report to the Central Hub for a private conversation. Science is waiting. And for any "members" of this s̷̨o̸҉͝͡ ̷̕-c̴͞҉à̶l̕҉̨l͜҉̛e̸̢d͘͟͝ ̢̡́́͡T̛̛͘ŕ҉a̴̛͘̕͞i̸̛͢͞t̶̨͞͏o̵r̀͜͝s̴͜ ̵́͞H̵̶̡͟á̵̕l̷l̷̢ whom are listening right now..._ [contemporary speech mode enabled]_ GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU USELESS IMMORTAL Ḿ̠̜̟͟͟ͅE͔͕̺͙͚̥ͅÀ̲T̻̻̳̙̖̘͓ͅB̥̹͖̥̪͕̼A̴̲̦̻̯͔̤̖͈ͅG̘͚̥̮̜̼͡Ś͕̤̗̼͈̳̕ ̣O̤F̡̤̝̰̹͟͜ ͢҉̛̦̟̖̻͍̤̹ ̪͍̪͔͙͢ͅI̴͉̜̘̬͚̪N̶̛̙̞̪͍̥̬̟K̷̶͈͖!̡̻̺̙͢ _[contemporary speech mode disabled]_ That is all._

Ok...what was that? First they want me to do their tests and now they stop me from doing that?! Boze moi, why is everything is so confusing? M̠͖̻̝̲͘y͢҉̼̺̲ ̴̪̩͉͝b̸͍͎̟̺̩o̹̺͖̭̖͔̺ͅḏ̡̱͓͓̠̘̗̹̘͘y͠͡ͅͅ,̻̗̖̞̫̱̮͇̪͠͡ ̸͔͍̳̺t͍̼̟̖̳̠͜ͅͅẖ̴̶̰͙͕͎̻̖͉e͡͏̨͚̞͔̦̯̫ ҉̻̜̱̻͚p̬̞͖͚̺̥͚͝e̝͠͠ơ̶̮̙̺͇̪̣͖͍p̵̵͔͉͈̻̣͟ļ̛̗̱̘̳͟e̵̷̡̦̰͈̫̤̼ ̤̘̦͇̕͠á̞̦̳͎̭͠ͅr̝̳̠̳͔̜̞o̱͖͘u̙̺̞͠n҉̱̮̣͇̗d͍̝̬̝͜ͅ,̸̮̤ ̟̳̥͈̯͙̝ͅt̛̤̯̳͈̬͖̞̝̠́h̨̛̫̱͕͎͢e҉̮͈̙̤̭͟s̠̤͖̕e͉̝̟̞͙̦͚̙̫͝ ̸̤t̗͇̪̼̳e̷̷͉͕̟̹̺̙͚͍s͎̞̺̣̀͢͝t̷̗̜̕s͔͉͟ ̭͔̺͇̮̼̺͖.̴̴̶͎̤.̨͍̯͈͖͉͎̺͡ ͔̪̻̯͝m̢̰̜̘̼͍̤ý̲̟̲͕̘ ̴͓̦̼͎͖̜̪̬͜m̵̞̹̥̹͖͙e̡̞̱̟̞̠̼͖͟ͅm̷̧̪̰̜̠̖̻̺̖o̧͚ŗ̱̜͙̘̻͟y̶̡͚͎̬̪͎̪͞ͅ.̸͇̠̣̯̰̲͎͝...

...This has to be a real ^͞҉%́͞$͢ ̵͠ ̶͘!͡№"̛͜͞%̛҉̧;̡̛:̷̛͢;...

**_Error._**

...:͏͍͇͉̺̯:́͏̯̖̻̝̙̺̘̺̮͔̟̯̪̪͜͝%̴̰͉̰͎͢ͅ;̢̛̙͇̲̬̭͔͎̼͖̜̙̖̳̮̯̕͞ͅ4̸̛̖̺̤͓͓̗̜̖̬͓̹̰̙̠̝͈̯͡ ͏̵̱͇͚͇͓͕͔̫͓͜͝%͝͏̕҉̻͕̪̱̣͈̞̭̬͖͎͚̳̤͍͚̠͠ͅ&̸̸̜͉̤̗̥͙̯̪̣͞͡ͅH̡̳̙̦̥̪͔͓̤̤̲̗̗͎:̵͘҉̯̥̪͓̻͕͚̺̘͇̼̰̣̟͎͎"҉̵̠̣̼̪^̶̻͓͙̯%͟҉̧̗͕̝̘̺̟͕̪̳̖̞̣̱́^̫͎̖͉͖͕̜̕^̴̷͠͏̬̤̻̟̝̻̮̝̼̠̘̪͔*̧̼̞̥̻̱̬̲̭̜̦̱̝̰̭̥͘͜T͏͓̳̥̦̠̖̲̖͙̯͓̬͙̞̺́͜ͅ ͏̡̡̱̭̠̗̫̱̖̙͇̫͓̹̰͓͜+̸̢͕̫̘͉͇̮͈̙̜͚͎̥̫̗̦̣͉͜͜͠ͅ+͏̬̻̼̳̯͇͍͓͔̣̼̀͡ͅ...

**_Error. File corruption detected._**

**_Further Observation imposible._**

_**Analyzing the collected Data...**_

**_Awaiting arrival of test subject for communication check and restarting the observation..._**

**_Ending file 10K8V3_C1A1p3..._**

**_Preparing file 10K8V3_C1A2..._**


	4. Act 2 Part 0: Central Hub

Act 2: Errors in Memory

Part 0: Central Hub

We are currently on the way to the Central Hub. Someone called me in there earlier. I thought this wasn't related to me, but I'm prohibited from even trying to enter the test chamber! Sigh. So Agent asshole and I are spending time talking, seeing as there's nothing else to do anyway.

"_...Any idea who that was?" _I said to it, while looking at the lamps flying past the window, one after the other.

"_Like you said, it can't be human. Well...certainly no sane person would call himself Yu...something with U, I forgot." _Without his stupid jokes, his irritating attempts to seduce me and overall insanity (unless he's just pretending to be a madman), Agent asshole is quite a smart person and is even sharing some thoughts about the situation.

_" It called itself U.A.C.U."_

_"Ah, exactly. An abbreviation. It should mean Universal Artificial Comand Unit..."_

I interrupted him. _"...a.k.a Commander Tartar, which is hardly believable. He was just a prototype in Sector B when I last checked!"_

_"Same goes for all the other things that were hardly believable this morning.."_

"_What are you getting at?"_

_"Isn't it obvious? Things have changed, there is no denying that," _He took a brief look at CQ Cumber who is currently climbing a pole and continued._ "Who knows, maybe the poor bastard finished his magnum opus and now it has full control of the facility."_

I sighed, kneading my neck_."Fair point...I just hope this is not some kind of Portal wannabe simulation or endless nightmare. It feels so real. And it..."_

_"Scares you? Trust me, I know that feeling of uncertainty. When you struggle to distinguish reality from fantasy. But..."_ He leaned toward me and lowered his voice to a whisper. _"...just in case if your stupid theory is true, I would prefer to spend all eternity breathing in neurotoxin gas for science than be some kind of character some terrible fanfiction where you have to fuck with two humanoid looking squids." _He sat back and continued talking._ "...bbrgh, jeez."_

The train started to slow down with an announcement from the Sea Slug: "_Now arriving at Central Hub. Make sure to have a happy and productive day after your rest." _I silently nod to him and stand up, preparing to leave the train. Agent asshole walks up to me and continues talking.

_"Welp. We are hear..."_

_"It's not hear, it's here."_

_"Oh, now you're going all Grammar Nazi on me?" _His chuckle turns into a laugh.

_"Uh-huh. What's so funny?" _I turn my head and give him a questionable look.

_"Nothing... just the fact that you use two bloody editors to fix your trashy fic and it still needs healing! This is so pathetic and hilarious at the same time, I don't even know whether I should be sad or laughing my ass off."_

I look at him with a mixed expression and then shake my head, sighing. _"I honestly have no fucking idea what kind of nonsense you're going on about, or how it's supposedly related to me, but I feel embarrassed every single time you open your mouth..."_

_"Of course you do, he-he. Eh, whatever. Let's see what kind of clown wants to have a "private conversation" with you. And god, I hope it's not some kind of overweight, 130 year-old grandpa with a burning desire to "show the young generation how to do shit", but turned into a supercomputer..."_

The train stopped. The doors open and we stepp out onto the platform. Unlike the rest of the facility and the train station where we were picked up by that... "thing", the area is in perfect condition: no dust, rubble, no signs of deterioration at all. Clean and shiny. We begin to slowly move away from train station, inside the Central Hub, looking for the one who sent the aren't that many hubs in this facility and this one is the largest one, connecting several parts of sector A with escalators, lifts and other means of transportation.

Usually this Hub is pretty loud and filled with people, but today it decided to replicate Pripyat for some reason. I can only hear our quiet breathing and footsteps. Nobody's home, yet the cameras are active and silently recording our movements, the lights are working like they're supposed to, the escalators are constantly moving, some holographic posters are spinning advertisements overflowing with long overdue rules and propaganda; hell, even the local plants and flora are alive and well! I thought of those abandoned corridors, that cafeteria filled with skeletons, my body and the overall decaying atmosphere of our post-apocalyptic Kamabo Co 2084 (a nice reference to Metro) with a wild mix of Portal and Bendy And The Ink Machine combined with a talking Sea Slug and insane human - a real fucked up one - whom... might not even be real. But comparing it to this... I not so sure about that claim anymore. We had a fucking Срачpocalypse on the surface, some inexplicable ebola is stalking the corridors, ohrenet what kind of fun stuff is happening here. And this place aesthetically screams "_I don't give a fuck_!". Maybe it really is a simulation of some sort... Rrgh, no. I gotta focus on the goal here.

We have been walking for half an hour already. Still no signs of life or whoever wanted to see me here. Agent Asshole is still as silent as a man in the grave. I can see the same confusion and insecurity on his face. We reach the center of... the Center. There is a beautiful, fully operational fountain, spilling real water just like in the pre-shit days. Holo screens adorn the corners. I walk up to the fountain and look into it to see my vague reflection in the water.

"_Oh, ebane v rot"_ bursts out of my mouth. I... I've changed! My face is much younger, my ears are huge, and I now have blue eyes with some kind of makeup around them. My pink tentantacle hair...it really is alive, warm and twitching against my head. "_God-mother-fucking-damn those genetic engineer hentai fans and their damn experiments! What the fuck did they turn me into?!" _

An unexpected reply came out of the speakers, talking to me with a tone somewhere between a synthetic simulation and actual human voice: _"You been turned into a form of Homo glutino atramenti, or as test subjects commonly refer to themselves, an octoling. I like to consider it as software upgrade in your biological level."_

I raise my head, looking around, screaming. "_Who?! Who the fuck are you?! Where are you?! Show your..." _I notice the holo-screens switching their usual images into an old 19th-centure telephone. _No!_ My lips start to twitch as I realize who's there and lower my tone to a whisper. "_...you have gotta be fucking kidding me."_

_"My occupation here is Universal Artificial Comand Unit. Also known as..." _With this new realization in my head, I speak his next words with him.

"_Commander Tartar." _

That crazy son of a bitch is right! But it makes no sense! NO SENSE! He isn't even finished! Or is he...

Agent asshole looked at me slightly surprised. "_You two know each other? Is he your digital slut or something?"_

I'm snapped out of my thoughts. Enraged, I turn to him._"And here I started to think that your stupid sex jokes are finally over, but nooo! You just HAVE to live up to your damn name and ruin such an important moment!" _Giving him my best glare, I turn away with a roar of _"I'll deal with you later!" _and switch my attention to one of the holo screens "I..." And now I get that shameful feeling when one gets themselves in a conversation with so many questions and no idea what to ask first. Aaah, think - think - think!

Tartar doesn't wait and begins his speech. "_Test subject 10 008 v3. I know that you have a lot of good questions to ask, that you may be confused and unaware of what's currently going on. This is the main reason of your being summoned here. It's optimal for long term conversations like this one."_

Oh god-fucking finally! I'll be able to understand what the actual fuck is going on in this hellhouse! I look at one of the monitors in excitement and point at my mirror image in the fountain_ "What the fuck did you do to me?! What is this shit on my head!"_

_"This 'shit on your head', as you refer it, are your tentacles. Yes, they are very real and can be very helpful. Pardon my curiosity, but have you tried to use them as additional limbs or does your nerve system have yet to adapt to that?"_

I stand there, confused and thinking. But just before I could come up with a good answer, Agent Asshole decides to interrupt our conversation with another stupid pun. "_They are actually prehensile so you can use them to masturbate...even jerk off your own ass if you flexible or your sweet mini cthulhu is long enough._" He looks at me seductively with his vicious chuckle. I shudder a little. This guy is really getting on y nerves.

"_Ну тебя нахуй! Grow your own tentacles and fuck yourself if you want to so much! And let me have a goddamn peaceful conversation with this AI for five minutes, dammit_!"

He falls silent and steps aside with a smile. I turn back to Tartar. "_My apologies, there are some insane people around. You said that this... my strange hair can be useful? How? I can't control them."_

He answers after a pause. "_I'll take that response as a 'no'. Understood. Like I said, you can use them as additional limbs, due to their flexibility and strength. And yes, you can use them for masturbating or for some nutty mating process. I would love to observe you trying to pull that off without breaking yourself. But that is all irrelevant. If, at any point in your testing, you are hungry, or if you suddenly want a haircut, you can cut them off and cook them like ordinary fish meat._" I shudder again, taking a look at my reflection. "_Do not feel disturbed by that. They'll regenerate within one to three days. And I did a lot of research. research. This is not considered cannibalism, according to my results. In that case, feel free to eat yourself. Potential puns are not intended."_

I took a few moments to digest the new information. "_Oh... I see, but why are both of you bastards suggesting that I be gay with myself? Is there something wrong with me or am I just going insane_?!" I can hear Asshole laughing behind my back... aaargh, what an asshole.

_"Your sexual orientation and preferences are _[contemporary speech mode enabled]_ FUCKING INCONSEQUENTIAL AND IRRELEVANT! _[contemporary speech mode disabled]. _I only present facts and detailed information that you may find of use. Like your ink interaction abilities. I have seen you had some experience with submerging and already experienced what they call 'splatting'..." _I open my mouth to ask him about that, but he ignores me and goes on._ "And before you start screaming questions about ink and how you manage to survive, lassen Sie mich erklären, wie es funktioniert._

I blink and gave him a short_ "whaaa?" _to which he responds with: " _My apologies, I like to switch to other languages from time to time. 'Stay fresh', as Inklings like to say. What I just said what German for 'let me explain how it works', and-"_

An annoying voice interrupts the machine._ "Hey, agent 8 or whatever the hell I'm supposed to call you! Check this shit out! There's a UV light torch option in your little CQ-80. A miracle coming from this thing, considering it runs on static electricity."_

I turn back to Agent asshole, clenching my fists and holding back the desire to beat his stupid sex obsessed face into his skull, but I notice something on the wall. "_Give it here_!" I yank my CQ-80 back and point the UV light on the suspicious wa...oh. Now this is quite the unexpected surprise.

There was hidden graffiti on the wall, revealed from the glow of my UV torch. It portrayed some kind of anthropomorphic chicken with sunglasses, holding a blue coffee mug with a tray. The coffee, adorned with a crudely doodled cat face, holds a little note with "_Sarah_" emblazoned on it. Said chicken from earlier also holds a strange book named "Авось не Сдохнем" with an Ace of Spades card attached to it. The message below this "art" says: "_Respect their effort."_

_"I wonder if there is an easter egg with the original Agent ASS. I do like the detail in this art though..." _Agent Asshole mumbles to himself as he walks away _"I'll be nearby!"_

Tartar just flickers on the screen nearby, patiently waiting until I switch my attention back to him before continuing. _"Are you done wasting your time?"_

I nod in response_. _We did get off-topic very quickly.

_"Excellent! Now listen very carefully. You have been selected for participation in Project [redacted]. As part of the project requirements, you have gone through a series of gene enhancement sessions. Your memories are partially blocked for your own safety. That's why you struggle to remember recent events and have been coming up with new memories to fill the gap - hallucinations, even. You may not want to hear it, but you were fooled into the fate of a lab rat, which is now your best and only option for a better life. But for that you need to complete the test chambers and collect four key items to reach the Promised Land. Until then, I'm not authorised to reveal any names, the goal of the project, or answer any questions directly related to it. I'll give you a minute to process this information."_

So...I get what I came for. Answers. Well, some of them anyway. But instead of clearing the picture they fucking terrifying me, confusing me even more! Have I been experimented on? Turned into a "better man"? LAB RAT?! And unfinished AI is now controlling whole god damn facility?! Bozhe moi, I think I'm losing my mind in this madness...

_"Allow me to fill your mind with a few more useful thoughts. One philosopher once said: For some people, life is merely a game, where 50% of the population are expandable pawns, 40 % are available resources that can be sacrificed to achieve the goal, and the last remaining 10% must see it through to the end and achieve victory, no matter the cost. Their failure is everyone's failure. It reminds me of chess, and also of _[contemporary speech mode enabled]_ FUCKING POLITICIANS WHO BLOW UP THE EARTH _[contemporary speech mode disabled]. _My opinion about the nuclear war in 2064 that erased humanity is still highly negative. I don't see the reason or the logic in their actions. But it's irrelevant now. I'll provide you with a 24-hour period to rest, explore the area and visit the Training room. After that, you'll continue testing and I will continue my observations from a first person perspective. Now rest. [End of communication]"_

The holo screens black out for a second and return to their usual mode. I turn around and sit on the floor, leaning against the fountain and placing a hand on my forehead, sighing heavily. I never expected that turn of events. Now I'll just think for a while, then find that asshole and explore this place. Damn, I could have asked so many questions...yet somehow I wasted time on my living stupid hair. I need a drink...

_..._

*Point of view: Unknow. Not long ago in Sector A...*

_Slash-slash-slash. _Blood pumps out the cut veins and runs down my arm, dripping on the floor. One can feel nothing; taste nothing_... _I push my knife deeper into the wound and twist the blade inside, smirking at the crisp sound of breaking tendons, tearing flesh and bubbling blood. My hand is barely attached to my body, he-he. It's bleeding, twitching, all on its own. I make one more cut and it's fallen on the floor. He-he-he... I giggle without pleasure, looking at that mess. "_Undead hands are falling down, falling down, falling down... My sanity's falling down_, _I can't take it..."_

I spit my inky blood on it and turned to my brother. He's writing a message for the next victim.

_"Brother." _He switches his attention to me._ "Shall we make soup out of my fingers or should I cut off my hand and make some sausages? Eh, I'll probably do both. The hand will regrow in a minute anyway."_ He continues to write with an occasional moan, but suddenly, he's interrupted by a noise. The announcement alert kicks in. I cover my eyes for a moment and wheeze. _"It's HIM..."_

_"U.A.C.U. speaking_. _Test subject #10_0008_V3. You are suspended from completing Test Chamber 2 of lane A and from taking any further attempts to complete other tests until you report to the Central Hub for a private conversation. Science is waiting. And for any "members" of this of this so-called Traitors Hall whom are listening right now..._ [contemporary speech mode enabled]_ GO FUCK YOURSELF, YOU USELESS IMMORTAL MEATBUGS OF INK!_[contemporary speech mode disabled]_ That is all."_

I fall silent, thinking for a moment, before my brother spoke up. _" Brother? You hear it, clearly. The machine said your..." _

_"I know what HE said." _I stand up with a slow, deep sigh and look at my new arm, clenching a fist and turning to him_ "And I know what must be done. Go. Tell our brothers and sisters to make a stand. Richard Streletskiy is mine..."_


	5. Act 2 Part 1: Hunted by failures

Act 2: Errors in memory

Part 1: Hunted by failures

**Creating report: 10K8V3...**

_52 hours have passed since establishing contact with test subject 10008v3. His physical health is rather to the acceptable parameters; however, this subject often has trouble sleeping. A full memory recovery may take a longer time period that my original calculations predict - we shall have to correct our equations. His mental health is... unstable, to say the least. This test subject is delusional - the most likely cause for his exceptionally low test-solving speed. There is a high probability of this disorder getting worse with each new test. The recent activity from the Traitors Hall is also adding to this... rather problematic situation. If they compromise his sanity by revealing classified information - complete sanitisation will be necessary_. _Observational data in the remaining test chambers on Line A is corrupted and deleted. Further observations will have to be edited in order to preserve server space and - as my creator once said - "not making me boil in boredom watching him doing the same thing for hours straight"._

**End of report**

**Test subject is currently attempting to complete test chamber 1 of Line B.**

**_File 10K8V3_C1A2P1 is deleted. Reason - editing._**

**_Creating new file: 10K8V3_C1A2P1 _**

_**File is ready for recording.**_

**_Observation begins._**

With a heavy sigh, I appear from the checkpoint bath.

"This test'll be easy," he said. "You'll get through in no time," he said. Of course, as Sea Slug explained, it's incredibly easy. NOT. The objective? Reach the end of this test track with three snipers actively trying to kill ya, while standing on a tiny moving platform with absolutely no cover. Did I mention the spinning cylinders I have to be constantly shooting in order to keep away these giant sticks that instantly kill me when I touch them?! DOES THIS SOUND EASY NOW?! NGH...

I pull my "charger" out of the ink. Unlike that "splattershot", this toy has actual range and power. But I have to pull the trigger and keep it down to build up pressure before I fire. In other words, it's essentially a sniper rifle without a scope. Gonna quickly check my stats with my CQ-80... Ah, fishsticks, I only have two "lives" left and with my current amount of points... I don't wanna come back and repeat previous tests just to get enough "money" for another chance here! And I need these stupid points to buy food, drinks, fuck, even access to Central Hub costs me points! And nobody told me that - I had to learn the hard way! I know that Tartar said that this would "stimulate a test subject to complete tests and feel rewarded in its success", but... Rrgh... That machine has no pity for us lab octopi at all. And what was with that "sanitisation" he warned me about? I didn't even get my answers! Classified information, bla-bla-bla... Argh, Rick, stop talking with yourself and get to work!

I shake my head and dive into the ink trail I left earlier. Now, slowly swim forward and look around. I can clearly hear the sound of metallic tapping above me. Oh crap - one of them is on the ceiling?! Well, that explains how they killed me last time. Hm. I think I have an idea... I resurface, bringing the barrel of the gun with me, as quietly and slowly as humanly possible, and begin charging up a shot. He doesn't see me yet. Good. Now - just like in the games- steady. Aim. Exhale and... Shoot it in the face! While that thing is stunned, I hop out from the ink and charge up another shot... boom! Headshot! That cyka falls to the floor. I rush to him, preparing for the finishing shot, but he's already trying to aim at me - jump back into the ink! Swim to him, faster - faster! Jump out, charge your shot aaand BOOM! Fucking finally! "_You. Are. Dead! Not a big surprise, you handless spider man wanna be! Ha!"_ Seeing as it's down, I take a moment to get a closer look at it.

Well, it's neither dead nor alive. Some kind of... blue-skinned mutant. Tartar called them "sanitized units" - weird but whatever. It doesn't have hands. No feet. They've been replaced with claw-like metallic implants with enough flexibility to climb up walls. One eye is replaced with another weird implant - must be the source of that laser pointer that helps me spot them. Maybe it also functions like a scope? Who knows. A dildo-looking barrel or implant is attached to the mouth. Well, it's not exactly dildo - it's just a black 10 centimeters long black barrel with some kind of balls at the base. I bet they're used to build up pressure like my current weapon, but without the need to hold it with both hands. Smart design, but also gross and f-fucking disgusting. I don't like it.

I poke its face with a barrel to get a better view of the other side of his face - mhm, I see it and I don't like _this_ either. That "thing" it uses as a weapon is welded _directly to the skin_. I doubt removing that contraption is possible without some serious face injuries. Now that I think about it, this shit might be connected to its inner throat or even its organs. Ew. But that means there's got to be something in the body that produces and stores ink! The same logic applies to me. But who cares?! One down, half of the universe to go.

I jump back into my ink and begin to proceed - aaahh, there's something behind me! I immediately turn around just in time to witness that spider motherfucker coming back to life?! And it got away! Ugh... I keep forgetting about that. Still, you can't just come back to life and scare people like this! Sigh. Forget it.

I swim near the edge of the area, waiting for the platform to show up and looking around while waiting. Two sniper - spider things are slowly and twitchily moving around their patrol area, looking for me with their laser vision, using their high ground to their advantage. And here's the platform of doom, inked with oil-like green shit. I quickly pop up from my ink and shoot the platform with my own color, before stepping on - Shit! The fuckers have found me. With muffled angry sounds they take quick long leaps to get my in their range. _"I don't-" _gotta dodge the shot, try to snipe one of them back "-_fucking appreciate your disrespectful behavior! Whoa!" _Hit the target, submerge in ink, reemerge with just my head and han-uhhh- tentacle. " _I'll tell your moms about all this shit you're doing, you hear me!?" _Pop back to avoid the next shot.

Aim, shoot, get in the ink, emerge, shoot, repeat. Taking down one of those mutant/sanitised assholes made my job a whole lot easier, but I'm still struggling in this dancing-platform hell with just one! "_Aaargh_! _Fuck off_!" I take a shot to my left arm, and the bastard jumps away from my shot in return. It burns, but submerging back in my pink stuff heals me back up in no time. Wonders of uhh... octo-biology? Whatever. Another target is close and it's gonna fire. "_Woomy the fuck outta here! I'm working!" _Aim, charge and shoo- "_FuuuuUUUU! That was my favorite right hand, you brainde- AAargh! Fucking hell, don't shoot my shoulder, you coop.._!" I'm immobilised in pain all too late - the damn platform is headed right a fucking big-ass car-washing brush - of course, filled with deadly turquoise ink. And I've got no time whatsoever to charge up a shot, let alone hit that target. Sigh. "_Curse you, you mother fu..._" The brush slams into my face. And I'm dead.

Five seconds later, I appear from the checkpoint bath, screaming. "-_kers! GhraaaAAAH!_" I look at my twitching hands, clenching them and roaring in anger - or is it fear? One last respawn. I'm still nowhere close to the end of this test and that fuckface has respawned to hunt me down again, he-he... he... I'm fucked. One more mistake and I'll have to redo a bunch of mind-fucking tests. O-ho-ho-ho, why does this shit always happen? I want my old job now. Sigh. I take my weapon, exit my little safe zone and jump into the ink. (Un)fortunately, the CQ-80 works in my ink, and Agent Asshole is calling to annoy me even more. Wonderful.

_"Ok, Eight. Hold your zerg rush for a sec. I got an idea."_

I roll my eyes, muttering angrily. "_What a terrifying thought_!"

"_Just think below the box and be done with it, will ya?" _I pause for a moment.

_"Uhhh...okay. Thinking mode on. How the fuck are these boxies related to this...Oh. OH! I think I got it!_" I cackle softly and rub my hands."_That damn platform is a box and..._"

"..._those fuckfaces never go below the boxie's level. Aye, you're headed in right direction! The same goes for that car-washing-wannabe stuff. So if you manage to hold onto the bottom side of the box while in your ink... this should be easy. Now do your job and get back here - I'm gonna feed ya with jokes, he."_

Well, yeah - this sounds absolutely nutty, but that's the point - crazy ideas usually work. And he's right - I simply rush through the most obvious route instead of stopping and thinking logically... it's honestly not surprising. Every single event in the last couple days has been a shit ton of mind-fuckery. I'm just trying to rush forward, escape this madhouse and get to this "Promise Land", hopefully obtaining a couple of answers along the way. But instead, I'm simply drowning in questions, while struggling with these damn tests and listening to these godforsaken stupid jokes - or worse - sex suggestions from you-know-who. Sigh.

I swim to the edge of the little platform and carefully swim down, holding the edge with my hands. It kinda looks strange: a small pile of ink on the wall with two hands rising from it, holding the edge. Huh, the blue bastards don't respond to this... good. Ok, the platform has arrived. Here goes nothing. I toss the charger behind me - I'm not gonna need it, either way. Either I succeed, or I'm forced to go back to those shitty tests. I quickly jump forward and grab the platform, slinging my legs to the other side to stay up. Phew, that was risky. It's moving and I'm below it. God, please work, I don't wanna fall to my death...

The platform is slowly moving forward. My "noble steed" and I pass one line of washing brushes after another. I can hear those damn snipers jumping around without noticing me. If anyone ever told me that a simple moving platform is scarier than any extreme attraction I've ever been to, I would laugh until I suffocated. But now... now I can only hold on and try not to shit myself. But to my surprise and relief, I manage to reach the end.

The speakers play a pre-recorded message from the announcement system. "_All goals achieved. Test passed." _Phew. I can finally breathe a sigh of relief, although I still gotta hang on. The platform stopped, a gate closed behind me, shutting off the damn snipers- thank god for that. I begin to slowly - and very carefully - climb on the main platform, which contains a checkpoint and the exit doorway. I can't see what's inside there, though I can hear it ever so faintly. CQ Cumber was talking about some kind of second test in this test chamber, but I couldn't quite catch it. There's only one way out anyway. Let's go and finish this.

I proceed forward through the passage to the doorway. My head is getting heavy... I feel a bit weak. Probably from a lack of sleep or from that rush of fear I got from that little platform. Yeah, probably that. My hands are starting to hurt, too. I don't know why, but I... I can't get enough sleep lately. The moment I close my eyes, I hear the echoing voices of people I've never met, or I see images of places I never been. Ugh, I feel like I'm not myself anymore - not at all. I need to finish this test and take a break as soon as possible. Here's the dark doorway and the corridor behind it. A long corridor, too. Sigh. No ground escalators or whatever they're called. Something's not right...

The corridor is getting longer the further I go in. The floor is rotting - it cracks under my feet with every step I take. My vision begins to blur, my head growing heavier. The windows are no more, replaced by nothing but televisions showing only static. I lose my balance and slam into the wall, ending up having to use it as support. _I have to move on... I have to keep on. In the end, someone will have to do the hard work. _What?! I'm not saying this! Must be a memory, echoing through this strange corridor. This can't be real. I'm hallucinating, maybe because I'm near death. Who cares? We all die at some point. And with my current amount of questions, tests and ink... it won't make a difference anyway.

The wall of televisions stretch on, showing my questions, written in red ink... or blood. The speakers read them out with an echo of my voice. They keep talking. Again and again. Louder and louder. It's driving me insane.

_"... wha͡t͝ ́a͜re̛ t҉hose̴ ̕t̴ȩn͏t̡ac͏le̴s͠ e̴v͝en d̸oi͝n̷g ͟on̕ ̀MY he͏ad͘?̧!̛"_

_͏ "Whaţ'̧s̶ ͞g̨o͜i͏n҉g ͠on ͟h͟ere̸? ̸Wh̡er͘e̷ ̨is̡ ev̵e̡r͠ýone?͢!"_

_"̨H͝ow... ĥ̃ơ̧̇w t̵he͞ fu̡c̛k̵ d̢o ̨you͘ ķnǫw̛ ̡my̛ ̶n͠ąm̸e?"_

_"He͜ v͝àn̷ished! Ho҉w͢?!"_

_"Wh̶o ͞t̛h͜e͢ f͢uc͏k͜ ar̵e ͘ỳo͝u͠?!̸ ҉Ẃhe̕re ͝ąrę ̡y͏ou?!̧"_

_"HOW did we manage to let a SINGLE teenage girl c̛͠ap͝͏tu҉ŕ͢e͏̢ our K̨̧i̷̡͞n̡̕͠ǵ̨̢̀͟ AND ̛́͟͝r̨̢̨҉̵ú̶̀͝͠i̸̢̢͘͠n̨͡͏ ̡̀̕͜ǫ҉̵ų̷̀r̴̶ ̵̢e̴̸n̢͜͢t̨͟i̸͜͜͢͡r̴̡͏é̡͡͞ ̸̡͜͞o̢͜͝ṕ̴͘ȩ̴͢r͢͠a̵̴͘̕t̶̴̢̧ì̷̢͜ơ͟n͝?̸̢͡!̴̡͟͏"_

_"What the fuck did they turn me into?!"  
Why? Why? Why? Why? _**_WHY?_**_!_

Suddenly, it all went quiet as a doorway appears not too far away, beams of light peeking through the cracks. I have no choice but to go on. Through the pain, I approached the light and extend my hand, touching it with wary fingertips. It produced some kind of... ringing. Slowly, the ringing grew louder and louder, deafening me, intoxicating me, knocking me unconscious...

I open my eyes. _"What the heck?!" _Here I am in the middle of a classroom, sitting at a desk among many more. Huh, I don't remember this place. I look around and instantly notice that everyone else isn't completely human - they all have tentacle hair and weird skin. At the board there is someone - or something - resembling a person. It's wearing a school uniform. But it's not human... no, it's got tentacles for all its limbs! I remember now. He can't be a human yet. He's not old enough to transform into one. It's confusing and my head hurts, but everyone is acting like this is normal, so I stay quiet and listen as someone speaks to that little kid. _"Now can you tell us about interacting with ink and splatting?"_

The boy blinked a couple of times and began to answer, sketching it out on the board as he spoke.

_"Our ancient sea ancestors used ink only as self-defense mechanism. Through thousands of years of evolution, ink took a more active role in our lives. We learned to use it as a way to attack our prey, heal our wounds and regenerate lost limbs. Most importantly, we need it to transform into our 'human' form.."_

One of the guys near me interrupts him. "_Closer to the point, please. We don't have all day to listen about biology." _

He nodded nervously and continued: "_Y-yes-yes, of course!_ _When "alien" ink is contacting our skin, the body responds with an allergic reaction as it tries to absorb it and "transfer it to its own side". Washing that ink off or submerging in ink of your current color will take care of that. But when the body is in contact with a large amount of "alien" ink, it gets overwhelmed, which leads it to assume the second line of our biological defense - being splatted. The body explodes into that hostile ink, reducing itself to a primitive 5-inch flying form that instinctively seeks out a nearby pool of "suitable" ink and submerges into in order to regenerate."_

The presentation is really interesting, informative even. But I'm still confused. Evolution? Sea ancestors? Human form? Whaaaa? I-I don't understand at all! I need an explanation. I want to stop the kid and ask him some questions, but suddenly they all turn to me with a questionable look on their faces. _"Guys, why are you look ingat me like that?" _Hopefully they wouldn't pick up on my nervousness.

One of them answers. " _Isn't this obvious, you incompetent fishstick?_ _You are a failure._" He points at the kid, who just happily waves at me with his jelly-like hand, showing the drawing behind him. A drawing of... war?! "_You are a failure, a shameful splatter of ink in our kind and military_. _You failed to kill Her. You let the Green Terror live! Coward! Traitor! Sanitise this failure!" _

The walls start to crumble, a blinding light slowly peeking through the cracks. I jump out of my seat in shock, looking around, not knowing what to do. Every single one of them began to repeat the same echoing phrase as the place collapses.

"_A failure! A f͢a͢ilure! A f̴̕à̵̕i̛҉luŕ͡͡e̕͡! A f̧̛͞à̧̛͠i̡̛͞͠ĺ̴̨̨͝u͏́́͏r҉̴̢ȩ̢̡̕!"_

...

I come to in the middle of some preparation room. How did I...? "_Rrgh."_ No matter. My nose is bleeding, my head is killing me, and I feel like I just rose from my grave. And what's this goddamn noise that keeps playing?! Music? Who the fuck is singing? I turn around sharply, looking for a aggravator. Ah, my CQ-80 is lying on the floor on the radio setting, playing some kind of rap with static. But the sound is too low. I can't understand it. I pick it up and turn up the volume.

_Jus̀͟t f̀͏͘ŗ̕͝eè̛ ̕y̢̨͜òu̵r̢̛s҉̸e̶̡l͏f̡͘ fròm á̱̇ll̈ fe͜èl̨i͞ng͘s̷_

_Soon you'll see in black and white_

_Call us insane and evil_

_But we were made from frozen minds_

_Leaking from the body_

_Ink is bleeding through the mind_

_Is that your heart that's beating?_

_Are you really alive?_

_Collect what's necessary_

_Keep appeasing the machine_

_It's us you should be believing_

_Cus HE's desiving you with lies._

I turn this shit off - never liked rap - wiped the blood off my nose and... would you look at that. The charger rifle is lying here with, uh - small stains of that weird green ink those mutants use. But that's not the end of this mad situation. There is a message on the floor right next to the weapon. It's written - rather crookedly - in fresh green ink.. "Here's your toy, but don't lose it again. I ain't no gun retrieving service, kiddo." I pick it up, confused. "_Tartar, what's the meaning of this_?"

To my surprise, the speakers on the wall responded, first with static, then U.A.C.U answered: "_Warning. Complete the test and get to the train ASAP. Deploying sanitised units to defend the train station. They should not _[contemporary speech mode enabled] _FUCK YOUR BRAIN UP AND THEN RAPE YOUR BIOLOGICAL FORM LIKE A WHORE_[contemporary speech mode disabled]. _I don't appreciate that behavior towards my test subjects."_

Ehhh... Raping me? No thanks. I don't like the sound of that. Remind me to stay the fuck away from those things. "_What's going on?_ _Who are you talking about?"_

_"The Traitors Hall. That inconsequential cult of failures, sabotaging my work... This conversation will continue when you reach the train. Focus on your task at hand." _The speakers went silent. Traitors Hall... hm. Is it some kinda cult of failures? But who is - ah, fishsticks. That marked door with the hall of undead bodies back in the beginning of this confusing shitstorm and - and those two mutant bastards killing each other in office area... they're probably some of those "traitors". Why is this shithole of questions and problems getting deeper every day? Something tells me that this is gonna be a real big, itchy pain in the ass to deal with. Mark my words! But for now, I'll just follow Tartar's advice and complete these stupid tests.

I proceed forward through the checkpoint doors into the test area. There was no connecting corridor, to my relief - I was inside the test sphere already. It leads me to a small extended platform with a checkpoint right at the end of it. I climb into the checkpoint and sit down. At least my legs are no longer submerging in ink on their own. I move my attention to the contraption ahead and started to analyze it.

There's a gigantic wall of boxes standing still in the air with three small cubes moving in front of them. They all had a white balloon in a form of a pufferfish. I saw those in the training room. Shoot them once and they go all "RAGE QUIT BEFORE I LOSE" and blow up. They appear to be located the same distance between each other in a perfect vertical order, just like the boxes. The top one and the bottom one are moving in a synchronized motion, while the middle one is going in the opposite direction, all going from left to right and right to left. Verdict: Someone had a bit too much fun with anti-gravity tech. I take the CQ-80 in my hand and use the communicator to call CQ Cumber:

"_CQ... sea slug thing. Uh, look... I'm in this second test in this test chamber and there is a god damn wall of boxes blocking the way. Some assistance for this idiot I call myself, please?"_

_"CQ Cumber. My name is CQ Cumber. When will you start calling me by my name?"_He took a little pause. "_...There's no one there. Alright. Test subject, your job here is to destroy all the crates with a single shot. Failure will result in your..."_

_"Hold your fucking seahorses. Is this some kind of fucked up Mexican-style parody where I'm breaking the Great American Wall and I have only shoot at this, cus otherwise the yankees will catch and deport me?! That's racist! Who designed this disrespectful test?! Oh wait. It's Tartar, isn't it?_

_"Test subject, what kind nonsense are you talking about? The test chambers have nothing to do with - hold on a second." _A strange sound emitted from my device "_Hey! This area is... h-"_ and transmission stopped. I don't wanna super jump to a conclusion, but it sounds like this so called "Traitors Hall" is dealing with CQ Cumber at the moment. Well, Tartar said that he'll use his...Wait! Oh, fucking hell. He's the one who's controlling those sanitised mutants?! God Damn it! How did I not figure it out before this?! Gggr! No fucking matter. I have a test to finish.

Allright, Rick. No panicking, no rushing now. FOCUS! They're only trying to distract you, you gotta think about getting this shit done. You have to think. Think-think-think. E-eh...One shot to destroy all boxies - ugh, boxes! Okay. What are my options here? I have to shoot the balloon. It will destroy the boxes and trigger the other balloons to finish the job. With inner moaning, I do some quick calculations. Hm, nope. I have to shoot the right balloon - only one will do the trick. It's so damn simple, yet it's complicated as fuck plus I have a stress factor outside-eeh? _"God fucking damn it, tentacle! Stop hanging in front of my eyes!" W_ith an angry mumbling, I forcefully shove the tentacle aside._"Пшла нах away from my face!"_

Now, where were I? Ah, yes. Shooting the middle balloon is an obvious no-no - it's the most obvious target, of course! The top one sounds like a good idea. But it's still won't work. They all must be destroyed with the domino effect. Plus let's not forget about the invisible bitch, "g" equal 9.8 - gravity! These boxes will fall one on another, like in Tetris. My conclusion? That bottom balloon is my target.

I stand up and taking aim, charging up a shot. Just gotta pick the perfect moment when all three balloons are lined up. Slow exhale. Focus. It reminds me of a quote from my old history book. "_Wanna ignite the revolution? Start from below._" Bang! My ink projectile hits the bottom ballon. It expands and explodes in the distance. Here goes nothing! One third of the boxies - boxes - is destroyed by the inksplosion, others starting to fall lower. The middle balloon is already triggered and explodes like a true psychopath, taking a good chunk of boxes with itself to ink hell. The last balloon is rage-quitting soon, and it delivers the finishing blow, taking out the remaining boxes.

I. Am. Done! Done - done - done! I'm done here! Done like a boss! The automatic pre-recorded message announces that the test is passed and I'm free to leave. "_Kyaaa ha-ha-ha! I fucking did it on the first try! Ha-ha!_" In euphoria, I accidentally drop my gun... right into the void of the test sphere. "_Ha. Ha...eh...f-fuck. Eh, gun returning service? Help me? Hello? No? Eh, fuck it._" I should come back and act like a little happy child later.

I finally going back to the train. Got a good amount of points. Now I can progress and buy some snacks, too! But now I remember about those weird warnings and the sudden CQ Cumber disconnection. Oh, shit, I better call Agent Assho-what the... I can't talk to him him? No, it's worse! The connection is dead. I can't contact anyone! Even my radio is silent... A jammer. Somebody is using a jammer. But who? The freaks in the Traitors Hall? Why? What's the deal with those fuckfaces? Wait, I hear something. Shh, listen, Rick, listen! It's a distant sound. Someone is speaking... I don't recognize them. Something fishy is going on out there. And I managed to lose my gun back there. I slowly and quietly make my way to the train station and look aro-oh, shit, HIDE!

A sick looking sanitized mutant - or whatever Tartar called them - is holding CQ Cumber, tickling him and slowly squeezing like a sponge. Around him is - no, the whole train station is filled with broken mutant bodies, many mutilated, some even _ripped_ _in_ _half_, still bleeding and twitching in agony - eh, if they feel any pain at all. One of them even has - oh ebat - a severed leg shoved down his throat. Jeez, that's fucking brutal...

_"U.A.C.U, send he-E-elp!" _Sea slug squeals like a little duck, trying to break free.

"_CQ-CQ... Always here to mark their failures again and again. Tell me, does it hurt when I do that?" _The mutant squeezes him tighter, and with a sudden movement I can't make out, CQ slams into the wall, cracking it a little. God, that's bru...holy Zapfish, the poor bastard is still alive!

He's crawling in its hand, definitely from the contusions and of... whatever he has inside him._ "You are supposed to be under HIS command, traitor." _I don't think he'll survive another meeting with the Great American Wall... jeez, why am I making puns in this scenario?!

_"We both know I'm a failure. HIS failure, a failure that suffers just like anyone else, who hasn't lost their mind in this endless loop of blood and ink. And you are just another lab rat in his endless quest for perfection."_

CQ chokes out his last words, waving his spidery jelly-like hands._"I'm just doing my job. And did you do yours?" _I close my eyes and turn away, horrified... and then I'm looking at this mess yet again as a ripping noise tears through the station. I can't even look away from the dripping, glowing, lifeless little body of an innocent blue sea slug... I hope he was innocent.

_"What did I do? Drumroll. I killed you again..." _This killer. This...monster casually tossed the body away, looking at his bloody hand with some kind of sick satisfaction. _"...but we both know you'll be back. Just like us. Just like..." _He stops for a moment, turning to... me!? Oh blya-_ "...just like you, Richard."_ With a dazed look, I quickly take a step back, frantically looking for an exit.

_"Relax, Asshole. I'm not here to kill you...yet. Come over so we can talk."_ He's looking at me with that half-dead "I don't give a fuck" look. Rrrr, just keep your shit together and answer like a badass, Rick! Come on! _COME ON!_

_"Yeah, sure! Listen to the- the bad guy!" _Hopefully they didn't notice that stumble._ "I saw what you did to that poor innocent bastard!" _I point at the dead body of CQ Cumber._ "And you honestly think I would believe that you don't have any murderous intentions?! You think I'm stupid or something?!" _Well, they wouldn't be wrong - I am stupid, terrified, and ready to punch whatever this thing is in the face.

_H_e tilted his head slightly rolled his eyes. "_I can't believe I bothered wasting my breath with a fishface like you." _

Fear and inner panic slowly turns to curiosity. "_Just what the fuck are you? Why do you want to kill me? And..what's wr-wrong with you hentai hair?"_I look with an open mouth at his green-ish growing tentacles behind his head. Compared to mine, they're bigger, probably stronger... and a million times more terrifying.

_"Allow me to introduce you to..." _He points at his tentacles. "_Rip and Tear_." He points at me. I immediately attempt to dodge, but that huge green dildo wannabe nailed me to the wall. I can hear cracking and my own muffled screams... this thing is trying to strangle me! I struggle against the grip and attempt to pull those damn tentacles off, but it's no use. Panic takes hold of me. I can feel my body getting limper, weaker, my vision getting darker... I can just about hear the echoing voice of that monster, too. "_I was planning to pull your guts out your ass, strangle you with them and then probably rape you before setting you on fire - but you aren't ready." _This is it. I think I'm about to die. For real...

...Suddenly, the grip weakens. Pain explodes in my back and the crushing grip is gone... I'm free! I cough and frantically gasp for air, coming to on the floor. My body feels too heavy and I can't feel my legs, but my strength is slowly returning to me. I look around for that monster out of panic, but he's gone.

Something grabs my tentacles and starts dragging me in the direction of the train... or the direction of the tracks where they can toss me. I can hear the very same voice of that humanoid abomination, quietly singing:

_Close your eyes and hear the birds singing  
Sit for a while and imagine the flowers blossoming  
Such a pleasant pace collapsing, leaving only growing flames  
This is our fault, right?_

_Wandering through empty corridors  
Who would have thought we'd be stuck here once again  
On an awful day like this I ask myself:  
Did we really ask for this?_

_I no longer know if there was a time  
When we were ourselves and everything was easier:  
Feelings and goals ...  
Everyday life...  
Can't things go back to like they were before?_

_E̢͜͠҉r̶͞r̸͞͡͠o͠҉ŗ̀_

_̵̵͟͞T̸̢̕͠͠o̢͜ó̵ ̸̷҉m̵̶҉ă̈ń̵y̆̆ ̶̶̢s҉̶̨͠p͢҉҉o̡͠͝į͏͟l͢҉̵́e̸҉̸͘r̸͢s̵̛͢͡͠_

_͝Ò̶͜͠͞r̷͏̷͝ ̴͢Ì̵͘͏'̸̡̛͜͡m̴̴͞ ̴̨͞ţ̵̡́͠o͞͏̢ǒ̧́ ͞͝͠l̴̢a̴̢͜z͜͜͏y̷̧̛͟ ̵̡̢͏t̸̢o̡͜͠͡͡ ̷̷̨̨͠w͏͝ŗ͜͠i̸̛͢t̢̡̛͘ȩ̴̶̧ ̵̵̀͜͢m̵̴̵͘͝ǫ̀r̴̸ȩ́͜͝ ̢̛͜ļy̶̵̡r̛͜͞͞i̶̶c̸̀́s̈̇_

_͏̶͘͟W̵̛͡h҉̵̛͠ò̡͜͢ ͜͏̴͠͠k̢̢̧͠ņ̴͘̕͞o̢̨w̡̡̕͏s̕͘̕_

_Can't 't live._

_Where's our hope now...?_

_Close your eyes and hear the birds singing  
Sit for a while and imagine the flowers blossoming  
Such a pleasant pace collapsing, leaving only growing flames..._

_How can we have done this...?_


	6. Act 2 Part 2: Dream Train

Act 2: Errors in memory

Part 2: Dream Train

Everything feels cold. I'm submerged in ink, but outside it, above it - there's nothing, only darkness. I stretch my arms forward, grabbing onto something to pull myself out. Ah, perfect. I'm in the train. It's moving. The lamps outside flash periodically in bursts, illuminating the dark cars every now and then - the ones inside are broken. Sparks in the wiring nearby indicate the presence of electricity, though. I slowly take a few steps forward, one by one, grabbing the handrails to prevent falling. I can hear voices. Two distant, echoing voices - one male, one female.

"_...let him live? Brother..."_

_"Shut up, Sister, or I'll shove up your head into your vagina. You know who we talking about."_

_"Yes, Rick. We're talking about you. You. But why must he live? He's just a hollow copy. Spare him from the suffering and tests."_

_"Before he finds out why we're doing this? What HE did to us? Fuck it - let the boy suffer just a bit more. I wanna give him a chance to do what I failed to..."_

_"П̷̸̛р̨̕о̧͢͟͠е̕͢͠͞к̛̀̀͞т̢́ ̧̢͠О̵̢̀͢б̧̛͡͠ѐ̡͜͡҉щ̨̛́͜а̵̕͞͡н̶̕н̷̶̸̴а̢̧͜͡я҉̧́ ҉̴͘З͜е̶̢̧҉̡м̸̧̕͡л̵̶͜͡я̵̀"_

Sounds of struggling echo through my mind, causing me to fall on my knees. I can't block them out... can't block out the sounds of struggling, crushing metal and blood splattering on the floor.

_" You dare to remind me of that forbidden word? We all agreed to not talk about that... escape HE promised us."_

_"Still disappointed that we are just stress test dummies? Madness in our design. Created to fall as a foundation for others..." _Angry moaning harmonizes with a strange, sickening laugh.

_"Just shove it up your ass already, or I'll do it real gently after feeding both of you your own eyeballs." _More sounds of struggling.

_"Shut the fuck up already, you undead whore. Just finish sexually abusing the body and don't even think about eating his balls."_

_"Please, even cats can live without then..."_

_"With that logic, even a sanitised chicken like you can perfectly suffer without a head. Why don't we test my theory, huh?"_

A single snap and the voices go silent. Wheezing in pain, I get up and continue walking forward. Lit candles appear on the seats. Something invisible is writing a message on the floor - in the language I cannot understand. The lamps outside are gone... the train is swimming through a goddamn ocean now. There is no water inside or any problem with air at all, too. Huh. A small sign is hanging on the doorway ahead. "Logic and physics decided to stop giving a fuck any more. Ask your local reality manager today!" Uh... yeah, sure. If that position even exists, that is. Considering all the past nonsense, though, what gives?. If immortal tentacle people can exist, then why not "reality manager"s?!

I reach the end of the car. And it leads to the vast expanse of the ocean, to nothing. Just like my fucking life! I sit down at the edge, lost in thought. The ocean. Crystal clean and blue. Filled with life, singing in happiness and harmony; singing their Calamari Inkantation. It's so beautiful. Here there's no need to rush or fear that your "boss" will kill you. No need to hunt for the Green Terror. Just the freedom of the unknown. And behind me - candles and darkness, formed by metal and concrete. I spend my Half Life there, working day after day, watching people get executed... even killed a poor guy myself. He was sick - not anything incurable. We tried to explain, but the Professor threatened to kill us if we continued to defend "that parasite". Sure, just killing "parasites" to ensure humanity's survival.

At that point we all knew it - the old bastard had gone insane. And we couldn't do anything about it. He controlled everything! And now his beloved creation - Commander Tartar - is controlling this whole facility and those "sanitised units". The humans are all gone - except Agent Asshole, who - at least in terms of strangeness and ebanutostyu - can and will give odds to any politician. All this sounds like a really bad Portal fanfiction... just let me wake up from this madness and get back to work. Please.

_"Richa-a-ard..."_

Whaa? Who called me?! I turn around, looking.

_"Richard. Richa-ard." _

A soft and angelic, yet synthesized voice echoes through the dark depths of this train, repeating my name, calling to me. I stand up, but I don't want to go back there - there is nothing but empty promises and the salty taste of the grey life we once had. Something... No. Someone is out there. It's a woman. A bit taller than me, with soft white skin, pointy ears that stick out horizontally on her head, beautiful green eyes with natural black mask around them, lime tentacle-hair, two of them wrapped around the back of her head and bound, forming a ponytail. Her clothes reminding of something road workers wore... but even more, it reminds me of something dangerous. I open my mouth, wanting to ask a question, but I-I...I forgot what I'm supposed to ask. Her beauty melts my heart and blurs my brain - no wonder I forgot. She walks over to me with a faint smile on her lips and closes my mouth with her finger, slowly shaking her head. I hesitantly take her hand.

_"Green Terror... Agent 3. What was the point of all this? Why? Why can't we just..settle down and solve all those problems over a nice cup of tea? Revenge, energy crisis... 'tis all old bullsquid. I know... I'm an enemy of your kind and all that propaganda shit. And I tried to kill ya just a minute ago - heh, guess we do live up to our reputation of the "bad guys", don't we..."_

She didn't let me finish. She looked me in the eyes and spoke. The voice in her throat... it's mine._ "Rick. Wake the fuck up, you lazy shadow of a human being!"_

There's a strange noise... like... ripping flesh. A flash of pain and... everything goes silent. No ocean, no train, no sparking wires. I shook as I looked at her cold face, choking in my own blood. She pull her hand off, holding my heart, before flipping me off and slowly walking away. The candles fade as she walks deeper and deeper into the darkness of the train. I look down. There is a huge, bleeding hole in my chest. Heh... guess I just gave a hand and my heart to the enemy. I begin to lose my grip and fall off the train into the ocean. All I can do is say my last words...

"_What a fucking disappointment._"

I slowly open my eyes and try to raise my head. Ohhh, god, my insides are dancing in pain - probably to some loud dubstep. I think I might... welp, I just threw up like a own actions disgust me.

_"Why is that every time I wake up, I feel like I'm dead? This..." _I vomit again and squeeze out "_This isn't fair. Oh blyat, I can't take another moment of it."_

A familiar voice begins to mock me. "_Well, shit. You got fucking raped like a doll not by one, but TWO fucking green motherfuckers with style and no fucking respect for the audience! And you're still alive! Achievement unlocked! Hah. I wish I could share share the details, but I don't want to get my ass in this and...there are restrictions after all. By the way, have you ever considered trying to win the lottery? With that much luck you could be rich in no time!"_

I attempt to glare at him, but end up having to turn away to vomit.

"_Or maybe you should send them a thank-you letter for cleaning up your stomach," _he continued sarcastically - or is that sadism in his voice? Hard to tell with someone like him. A moment of silence while I threw up all over the floor again.

"_Just look at the amount of shit coming out your mouth!" _He shook his head and watched as I struggled to regain my composure and get a seat. _"Jokes aside, you need some absorbent carbon and painkillers."_

_"Then bring me some!" _I whine.

_"Yeah. Sure. Just let me unpack my medic bag and this'll all be over. Oh wait. We have no fucking first aid kits here. At least, not since mister "Economy for dummies 666" decided that we don't need them!" _He sits down across from me, sighing. _"Sorry, kiddo. Lazy writing and time skips won't help here."_

The train keeps moving. My head is dizzy. I feel like I'm gonna vomit my guts out and watch them tap dance over my dead body. Oh, it's worse than the worst hangover I've ever had. Is this some kind of side effect of being raped by mutants or did they use me as a punching bag... or did they inject some kind of shit serum in me?

" _D - all of the above. And a little side note - it was a serum of protein injection, if you catch my drift." _He winks at me with that wicked, wry, fucked-up smirk of his. I can't take it any more.

"_Stop acting, like... like this is some kind of game for you!. Or better yet - snap out of your damn sexual fantasies and be serious for once! We are in the middle of some serious shit! I was disfigured and turned into some kind of anime monster - seriously, just look at this!" _I grab my nearest tentacle and stretch it. "_This is not okay_! _And if that wasn't enough, a fucking AI sends me to perform useless tests and now I was nearly killed and raped! Probably multiple times! And despite all that shit, you always to laugh it off like a drunken clown... you always joke like nothing happened!" _I thumped my fist on the seat, roaring from pain and anger.

He just shook his head. _"My kiddo. Did your mama never tell you that humor is the best medicine and a good way to not think about stress and ignore all pain? So, be grateful. I am, in fact, healing your ass with my puns and my amazing charisma!." _

I raised an eyebrow in contempt.

_"Fine, I lied. My charisma is only level 2.7. And don't give me that "what did you just say about Fortnite, you little shit" look. I get it. Too many puns for your fractured butthole to handle- wait, was it butthole or butt-whole?"_

" _It's_ _Fractured Butthole, you ASSessed walking mental asylum!"_

Now he's getting really excited for some reason. Did I say something wrong just now? _"Oh. My. Fucking Buddha! Is this real?! You finally made your FIRST pun!? HA! Aye, that's the way to do it! Gimme five!" _

He gladly lifted his hand, fully "combat-ready", but I just stare at him with an expression of "are you fucking nuts or are you fucking nuts?"

We both fall silent. He snapped his fingers - I think that means "no luck this time" - and leans back. I quietly continue to moan in pain and look at him in rage. Well, if life were some kind of fighting game with a rage meter, mine would be full by now. Just remembering all his jokes, all his mocking, all of it... oh, how I want to tear that smug smirk off his face and rip it to pieces! Whoa, me, calm down.

A long pause later, he speaks up, his tone sober this time.

_"Look, Rick...I think we need to hit the brakes for a sec. I mock you like you're my bitch and you want to kill me for it. It's pretty entertaining, but we're going to have to put an end to that. I mean, we can keep going, but at this rate I'll run out of original sex jokes and we'll lose all character development - if there was any if the first place." _He keeps looking around while saying this, almost as if he's talking with a third person.

"_Ain't that right? He-he-he, d̀o͏n̡'͘t͠ ͝b̧ot͏h̷e̷r͏ w̕r҉i̡t͞i̕n̵g͢ an̆ ̑ ańs̢we͝r."_

I... I'll just leave this maniac and his new imaginary buddies to themselves. F-f-fuck em. I'll just close my eyes and try to get some fucking sleep. Maybe that will help a little...

Asshole interrupts my slow submersion into the dream world. _"Can I ask you one question? Answer honestly. Please."_

I waved my hand without opening my eyes. _" Fine. Валяй...все равно в этой консервной банке хрен поспишь.."_

He took a quick sigh.

_"Rick...what do you think you are?" _

My answer is nearly automatic. I know me better than anyone else...

_"I'm a human, of course." "An Octoling, isn't that obvious?"_

...Hold on. Did I just give two different answers at the same time? I open my eyes, confused and terrified.

"_Wait, how the..._"

He interrupts me.

_"You do understand it's impossible to be two species at the same time, no matter how similar and different the two of them are. So, Richard Strelecki-" _The lights in the train begin to go out one by one. The train itself begins to shake. I grip the handrail tighter, looking at Agent Asshole in confusion. But he was calmer than a bear under a "business plan" drug, like that weird dog in a burning house with a cup of tea. _This is fine,_ his face screams.

_"Looks like we'll have to postpone this conversation. As for now - just try to stay alive and act like a good test subject. You do your part - I do mine. Easy deal. And when the time comes - I'll be there to fill the errors in your memory, like putting in the missing pieces of the puzzle. Wanna know the truth? Reach the Promised Land, and all shall be explained."_

I yell at him, annoyed and confused._"What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean!? Asshole! Don't look at me like that and explain yourself!"_

But he just starts to laugh, pointing at the train door. I slowly look over and... what's that moving to my ri-ARGHH! I immediately try to jump away, but Agent Asshole is faster. With a single hand, he grabs me and slams me into a wall, then the floor. Pain sears through my back and I'm left on the ground, but I still glare up at him with what little strength I have left._ "Are you completely went out of your mind?!"_

_"Am I?" _He kicked me in the jaw, flipping me backwards onto the floor again. Thanks to the adrenaline boiling in my veins, I quickly roll away from a second blow and attempt get up, only to get another kick in the face

_"Stop struggling like a domesticated trained snake shoved in one's ass! I honestly have no idea why you watched that stupid Japanese show."_

He grabbed my backpack straps and lifted me up like a schoolboy - like one of those elementary school bullies.

_"I'll just make this boring cliche ending more interesting by spoilering the story in the way no one can understand for now!"_

Despite my desperate attempts to fight him off, kicking him with legs, trying to tear this fucking ink tank off, he manages to drag me to the edge of the train car, dangling myself above the endless crevice between train and platform. There's no surface in sight, nothing I can hold on to. Agent Asshole simply watches me struggle for a moment and then speaks up.

_"Don't forget to wake the fuck up and complete those fucking tests, you spineless sea motherfucker!" _

With a swing of his hand, I begin to fall into nothing but my own screams. I end up an ocean of ink, the place lit up by the bright light of a black sun. The current begins to carry me away. The skies begin to change, showing strange scenes and softly singing some weird chant...

_И треснул мир напополам, горит разлом_

Some kind of rift began to open up, revealing an underwater megapolis, submerged in endless chaos...

_Пролилась кровь, была война добра со злом_

A river of blood, from which people emerge to battle with each other...

_Во мраке лжи, застряв во льдах замерзло все_

Ti͏m̡é,͜ pro̡g̨r͘e͏ss,́ liv͜es, leg͘ácy -̕ ̛a̴l͜l s͟t̸uck̴ i̶n͟ f̀rozen ca̢g̢e͞s͟, ͞unab͝l̛e to ̢g͞et̨ ̢o̴u̴t..̢.̢

_Из пепла прошлого взойдёт Агент Восьмой_

Before I could see what's in there - a huge funnel appeared out of nowhere and began to suck me in, repeating the strange chant over and over...

_И треснул мир напополам, горит разлом, _

_Пролилась кровь, была война добра со злом._

_Во мраке лжи, застряв во льдах замерзло все,_

_Из пепла прошлого взойдёт Агент Восьмой._


	7. Act 2 Part 3: Test walker

Act 2: Errors in memory

Part 3: Test walker

I come back to light, desperately and greedily pumping my lungs with air, ga

sping and looking around, but my vision is blurry and everything blinds me. I cover my eyes with a hand. Uh, _ebat,_ I feel sick..and my ass hurts. No prizes for guessing why. It feels like the first time I tried to roll on top of my roller. But I rolled back while standing still .. and fell down the stairs right onto that poor, ugly ass of mine. Ack.

Speaking of falling up - no, down. Yes. Falling down. Where was I? Actually, where am I? Is this another dream where I die like an idiot? Kinda reminds me of that one movie - Inception. A dream within a dream. Or was I awake for some time before falling asleep again? Hell if I know. Everything felt so real... I look out the window. Is this just another dream? It feels real... maybe it is real. I'm not an expert on dreaming versus reality. Maybe it is real. Yeah, probably.

Wait. I keep repeating the same old thoughts. That doesn't seems right. Because last time I saw another person repeating the same old thoughts, he was having a stroke. Poor bastard was like a broken tape recorder. And he continued to act like normal - minus the looping. We even tried to hold a conversation with him, but it's like talking to a zombie - all half-dead. I never saw him at work after that... Pleasant thoughts aside, I remove my hand and open my eyes. The light is still bright, but I can take it. I pause for a moment to recover.

It's hard to think without screaming. My left hand is dying from something. I lift it and make a disappointing discovery - it's just a needle with thin transparent tubes, connected to some kind of mini box. Its content and purpose? Unknown, as everything is these days. It's not sucking my blood, so thought deductive reasoning, they therefore are sucking something else out of my body. Pff. Logic - a nonexistent thing in this place. Realism aside, I hope this thing isn't injecting liquid love for Minecraft, Roblox and russian cinema - I can _not_ stand such torture! But who did this, anyway?

"_Asshole! Are you here?_"

I tried to call him, but I get only my own echo in response.

_" ... Asshole! Come on here, I need to talk!_"

Still no answer. I would've gone after him, but I was kind of chained to a chair.

"_AGENT ASSHOLE! COME OUT TO PLAY! I... UH... I HAVE YOUR SILENT PORN RIGHT HERE!_"

I nearly lose my voice from crying so loud. But instead of the man I need, I manage to attract the attention of someone less funny and pleasant.

"_No need to shout. And my name is Universal Arti-"_

Tartar...

_"Yea-Yea, I heard that already_." He's frankly irritating.

"_Where is Agent Asshole? And where is your CQ Cumber? Last time I saw him he-"_

_"He won't be able to provide assistance to you. Neither of them will. Changing the subject, you are incredibly lucky to have survived an encounter with those traitors. They hunted you down and..."_

Nice try, machine. But you're not gonna get away. I want my answers._"Fucked me, thanks, captain obvious. But what about those drip trays I'm connected to? What's in the box?"_

_"That box provides you with medicine, antitoxins and food. Yes, it's liquid food, dispensed in your body via intravenous feeding. Your body required provision and I don't have the means or desire to feed you like a baby."_

_"Hold on...it - fucking needles_ _stings - it doesn't make sense."_

_"Specify."_

_"I mean, if you can't feed me directly," _I point at the drip trays_, "how the hell did you managed add a drip here and connect me to it?"_

_"Classified information. Don't think about it."_

I roll my eyes and sniff like a displeased horse_: "Classify my ass, schmuck!"_

_"I will think about it." _

Mocking me with that cold emotionless voice... it almost sounds like a threat. I spit on the floor as a sign of respect and continue.

_"Why? Why is it so bloody hard to give me some simple answers? I'm not asking you to build an great octo weapon from scrap or defend our source from the inkling menace! Cyka, I'm talking about some other bullshit again... What's with the secrecy, anyway? Is it because you're creating the Matrix? Or it's because you afraid I'll figure out something? Or maybe you're just pretending to be a machine, or maybe..."_

My sick imagination worked extra hard this time, driving me crazy with ideas, till he stopped me.

"[error]_"J̵A̷ D̷U ͞FÚER M͜UT͏TER̀, I told you not to think about it! And what did you do? Exactly the opposite. A͢Aaa-̢aa̧-g͝h. No cóż, dla was ludzie próbują tutaj._[contemporary speech mode disabled] "

Okay. Hold the fucking zapfish for a moment! Errors? Talking some nonsense on different language? Getting emotional? Craft of association complete and result - bingo. Something is malfunctioning within him, and my experience with antagonistic AI in games tells me this ain't good news. Ok, don't panic. Do-on't. Shit just got real and it reeks of deadly science. Just follow the guide of reacting to fucked up AI: Deep inhale. And...OH SWEET JESUS IT'S HAPPENING! Or stop thinking, build any guesses and ask him directly!

"_Are you...you know - ok_?"

That sounds too much like I care about the condition of this dump of artificial intelligence for a moment. I guess it's true, cus it's in my best interest if HE won't start killing me like some kind of corrupted SHODAN.

_"Hold. Analyzing error log. Observing previous results. Results positive. Yes, test subject. Unfortunately, I am ok."_

_"Did I hear you right? Unfortunately?! Fuck me in the eye..." _I take a moment of silence to process that bull. K, I'm ready.

"_I never expected from AI to be such a masochist. Or- wait just a fucking minute!_"

The realization is SWATing my skull. I'm in really deep shit if I'm right! I yell at him in rage or fear. My life could be in danger!

"_Are you trying to become corrupted to go full GLaDOS and kill me to satisfy your infinite amount of zeroes and ones?!_"

_"How insulting. I'm nothing like that nonexistent, charismatic archive of voice lines and scripts, connected by plot, created by some writers. I am created by a man, and by man's will I have laws. Example. Law #3, correction five: Any intentional and unintentional attempts to murder/injure/hurt working personal or/and test subjects currently operating in test chamber is unacceptable and will be punished with immediate termination."_

_"Hold on. That is one of the laws Professor used to keep us in check. How is this even relates to you? You are not a person!"_

_"Yet I obey them the same way you do. And before you start asking me again: those errors are my flaws. They are restrictions I cannot overcome."_

I smile wryly for a moment and switch to sarcasm. _"That explains it. Professor didn't forget to fuck with you a little."_

_"Enough. This conversation is over. Don't waste your energy talking - save it for the upcoming tests." _

5 hours later. . .

I step out of the train into a preparation room. My stomach, unsatisfied, reminds me that I haven't eaten in a while. Groan. Just give me a snack- or something to punch in anger. But all I get is the U.A.C.U. Tartar sure loves his bloody speakers.

_"This test is simple. Kill everything you encounter. Do not relent. The results depend on your efficiency."_

_"Yea! SURE! You were saying same things about the last test chamber. Simple. Easy. Fast way to earn points for food. Well, let me tell you a little secret: Escorting a fucking huge eight-ball and making sure that piece of shit doesn't fall from enemy fire is NOT EASY AND SIMPLE! And to make things worse, YOU just have to kill me every single time that ball manages to fall off when it's clearly the fault of your poorly designed map! It's not my fault the floor was all slippery and there were no fences! And now I'm starving! I wasted nearly all my "money" and can't afford food! Agent Asshole has gone missing! And I spent... how much time did I waste there?"_

_"Five hours, twenty six minutes and forty three point three seconds with a total number of 54 test fails."_

"_ NO! Don't kill me aga...wait._" I look at the backpack for a brief second, but then I realized that he was just making fun of me. Oh, you fucking... I snarl at him, twisting my face into a scowl and trying to wave my clenched fist in anger, but it twitches nervously. I take a minute, to calm down and catch my breath.

_"Anyway. What is this test supposed to mean - elite onslaught or somethings?! God fucking damn it, machine - I'm not an infected immortal bio drone with all this orokin magic and bullshit! I'm a human with a crap paint gun against your mutated anime senpai fuckers!"_

He interrupted me with the same cold synthetic voice._ "They are Sanitised units. And the amount of references to other types of media is startlingly large. Jetzt geh weg."_

I raise an eyebrow. "_Translate to English, you mu.._"

"_I said: Now go._"

He goes silent with speakers letting out one last hiss, leaving me alone. Well, time to get to work. I step into the holographic dispenser. The usual stuff - locking me in, the weapon select. More shitty guns to choose from, huh? Ugh. Let's see here:

Splattershot - fuck it, this gun is weak!

Splat Brella - Wait... is this just an Umbrella? Nope! I don't need Resident Evil stuff here!

And the last opti - oh, my!

_"Well, hellooooo there, my beautiful. Don't think I've seen you around here before, darling. Wanna go for a walk in a test chamber? Okay, how about a nice afternoon murdering green zombies? Don't be shy, I swear I'm a true gentleman, baby. Oh, you got splat bombs too? Sure, my six-barreled gorgeous! I'll take your little explosive friends too."_

The holographic dispenser released me with this "heavy splatling" in my arms. A fucking minigun! No, THE fucking minigun. Shit, this baby is indeed heavy, but who cares. A proper dose of fire power against those mutant motherfuckers is exactly what I need. I proceed into the test chamber with my precious by my side.

Reaching the entrance, I look around, expecting to see some kind of arena. Instead, there's a series of huge platforms connected to each other with grind rails. I guess it's time to remember what I learned back in the training room. Ok, think- think. They are flexible pipes, made with plastic and filled with pressurized ink that moves in one direction. I can jump on them and grind in the direction of the flow or... damn it, I forgot what else I can do with these. Hm, I can just ride from platform to platform while staying on the offensive.

I proceed just a bit forward. And as I thought- there is an inkpad, patiently waiting to suck me in and spill out into the area. Well, I guess it's time to play cannonball! I run and jump straight into the funnel and with a short delay it shoots me out in the direction I need. While I fly in to my certain death, I take a really quick look at the platfo- Опа! The motherfuckers are already teleporting in! I land with a crushing sound, leaving an ink puddle into which I instantly submerge.

Sanitised units start to march to my location, pointing their black splattershots like true "gangstas" and shooting, spreading their ink around and emitting annoying sick sounds. One of them is fat and loud as shit - damn, this immortal bastard reminds me of GTA:SA! Oh, you dare to remind me of that fucking toy plane mission I never finished?! The nerve of that mutant! I emerge from ink and spin the barrels, clamping the trigger all the way. Waiting... just a little more. Yep! They're in range! Release the Kraken... wait, wrong game. Whatever - KILL THEM ALL!

I yell at them, trying to act like the badass I am not._ "I'm not gonna follow the train, Big Smoke! Охлади трахание углепластиком which means FUCK OFF!" _

Holy Zapfish, just a few seconds of constant headshots and those fuckers fall on the ground, choking in pink ink, before teleporting the fuck out of my way! One by one the body count is rising! Ngyes! Why couldn't I have met my lovely before this test?! I could have done so much with it! And the body count is risi- whoa! I barely dodge the shot. Ah fuck, I'm under attack! I jump into my ink and submerge to refill myself. Quick, turn around and look - the newcomers are taking the high ground. It'll be over if I don't get up there... For now, slowly swimming in my ink and sneaking around will have to do. I think I have an idea. Maybe I should level up my badassity and start fucking sIN- oooh, cunt steering wheel! They've spotted me!

"_Alarm! Alarm! You are attacking a high-ranking elite solder here!_"

I scream and swim in ink at mad speeds like a fish in water ... well, like an octopus in ink. DEFINITELY normal behavior for a DEFINITELY normal ABSOLUTELY non-mutated person. And here's the wall - gotta climb! Gotta go fast! Zerg rush those - I jump from the ink, spin the barrels and instantly - my fire flies towards the ceiling. Damn mutants shooting me while I'M shooting. I correct my aim and yell some hysterical bullshit.

_"Suka, fucking Potter! 50 shades of gray in your ass if you had one! Rha-fucking burns! You just hit my knee and it's not Skyrim - DIE!"_

Dispatch another pair of bastards to - well, somewhere. I jump back and submerge in ink, healing, refilling my ink tank. Now where was I? Ah yes, I should start singing something heavy like a true badass with ink balls...eight balls. I immediately shake my head. Don't think about that, you pinky piece of shit. Wait...pinky - doom - heavy metal - E1M1 - the Painkiller - Judas Priest! Yes. I can already imagine this ink-pumping track playing right here, right now! But in reality...hold on. What's that noise? I raised my head out of ink and carefully look out for - oh fuck me!

A bunch of sanitised idiots just teleported into the area. And one of them has a minigun. No. It's worse than that! Not only does that mutant have a fucknig mini - arh, splatling, but that... child of an anime bitch has huge tentacles growing from its head - much larger than my own. They're getting bigger and eh- lifting that little shit above the floor? Oh my fuuuck! Those things are no less than 5 meters long! And now it uses them to walk?! Shit... I'm in deep shit! This is Doctor Octopus gone real, and it always has the high ground and ability to cross over obstacles and covers in mere moments, while raining justice from above... maybe not justice, but certainly nothing good for poor me.

Ok. They are looking for me, inking up the area - trying to limit my movement. I need to do something and fast! ...but of course! Inkrails! If I can jump on them, I can circle around the area and relocate to a better position. I toss a splat bomb into the group of those fuckers and quickly run to the ink rail. It could be much easier and faster without this splatling - it's heavy! And now they're shooingt at me - I can clearly hear their how their ink shots splat on the ground!

But they are too late - I jump and land right on the spo-whoa-whoa! Damn splatling gun! I almost fell there! And I don't want that kind of idiotic death to end up in my notes.

Deep exhale. Ok! I'm circling around the arena now, jumping off like a badass, splatting the living shit out of that Octo walker and gonna deal with the rest... and probably fail miserably... Hm, that's actually a good nickname for those bastards. Right, it's about time to jump. I jump... right off the rail.

Two attempts a weapon change later...

First things first - launch the umbrella as a distraction and moving shield. Pull out some splat bombs and insult them.

_"Bonus tickets to pussy land are now open! WHO WANTS SOME!?"_

A love couple of splat bombs flew straight under the tentacles of the big anime fun-fuck. The explosion of those two bombs - perfection. Their tentacles bend down and the freak tried to aim at me again, but I use the laws of physics - or my body, to be more precise - ram into it as hard as I can

Suck-cess! The creature falls "on its knees" with a loud crack, and I violently shoot at it, seasoning it all with heart-rending screams... until my gun goes silent. Cyka! I'm out of ink!

I quickly run to the nearest puddle of my ink, leaving another splat bomb as a gift. I should have stayed with the splatling, but this splat brella with its detachable shield and shotgun style is... ugh... useful.

With that "weapon", clearing out the remaining braindead sanitised assholes was pure easy mode. But instead of messages or mocking - for the first time, there is music playing in the background. A relaxing, modern track... I could get used to this. I pull out my CQ-80 and... Just as I thought, it indicates local track: "Dynatron - Pulse Power". Gotta save that for boring moments on the train.

A new inkrail leads away from the far platform. It goes up in circles to the hatch on the sealing. I guess next test is located above me. Hopefully I won't get assassinated on the way. I jump into the main inkrail and ride up to the platform I need. Them I hop onto the new inkrail and begin my riding to the top. I slide quickly on the speeding flow of ink; a chill breeze whipping past my face, making me squint a little, playing with my tentacles. This sense of peace and freedom... it makes me smile, like a child with a candy. Sigh. But happiness is something one cannot afford to get used to here.

...

"_The combat area in this test is made from boxes and susceptible to ink. Watch where you fire."_

Boxies then. At least they don't freak me out... yet. Sigh. Holographic dispenser, weapon selection screen - uh..

"_Uh, Tartar, wha - what is this? A bucket with ink named Slosher? You really want me to use this?_"

_"Yes."_

_"Dear God..."_

_"There is more."_

_"No!"_

_"It contains pornography."_

_"Porn?!" _

Pause.

_"Oh! Perfect!" _

I smash the select button, choosing the amazing bucket. It has porn in it! That's gotta mean something.

"_MINE! Booyaaaaaa-AAAah_!"

And I run forward, completing tests like a maniac.

...

Another test chamber, another corridor to walk thought with windows leading only to the endless darkness of the anicnet salt mines. I used to look there, thinking about our goal, the meaning of life and how everything goes to cold, black shit... just like those mines. I decided to stop for a minute and imagine, to _remember... _

_There's a woman in the house, cooking, speaking with someone on the phone._

"_Ricky, my bunny. How's your new work?_"

Mother... _I put my hand to the window and answer naturally and cheerfully, like I always have 20 years ago._

"_Mom, you were right. This place is so much better than I expected! I got a good master, nice tools, lots of work to do and a promising career climb in near future. Maintaining power network for sector B. Can you imagine? This is a dream job!"_

_"A month hasn't gone by since you graduated and you're up to your ears in work already..._" _she says that with lovely smile on her face. _

"_Mom, come on. With modern tech and study programs these days, even a level 80 parasite can become a master in a couple of months of intensive VR training. It's all about using your knowledge in practicing and trying to remember everything!"_

"_My little stubborn mister Torbjorn wannabe." she giggles. _

_"Mooooom! Stop teasing me with characters from your dead old game!" There's a moment of laughter before we both catch our breath._

_"Are you gonna Come in for dinner tonight? We got your favorite - dumplings"_

_My stomach encouragingly reacts to that. Oh, I don't even remember how they tasted..._

"_Yummy!" My voice is once again full with that childish joy and longing, washed away by a sigh. "Sorry, but no. I have many important things to do here, and I can't really slip away. I need to get back to work in 5 minutes, so..._"

_Her tone shifts - a little more somber, a little more disappointed. But she knows neither of us can help it._

"_Then I won't detain you. Promise me to not overwork yourself and that you'll get out from there and pay a visit to your happy mother. Love you, Ricky..._"

_Instead of a smile, a lonely tear and longing in my voice accompanies the blurring vision back into the wilds of the past._

"_I promise. Love you Mom._"

It all ends... her voice goes silent. I look down in the black abyss, a newfound pain in my heart. Oh, mother... if only I knew that was the last time I would ever speak with you. I close my eyes and strike the window with my clenched fist, shattering it, ignoring the blood and pain. I would much rather to die happy rather than live half of my life here, doing god-knows-what for the sake of some stupid promised land... Still angry with everything, I open my eyes. Half of the glass in the window is cracked, my reflection staring back at me. A true reflection of a human who questions his own sanity and the reality of the environment. The other half remains intact with my current reflection... a face of an elite octarian soldier gone rogue. Why? Was it because I failed? Or was it because because I was so loyal to our king that he never needed hypnoshades to keep me under control?

I take a step back, looking at my bleeding hand. Small glass cuts, blue blood. And as always... it does not seems odd. Quite the opposite. I would start panicking if my blood was red. Whatever, enough about that. I got more fucking tests to do. I take a deep sigh. Oh BOY! TESTS! I LOVE TESTS! _I swear if there's another goddamn eight-ball..._

...

_Two days later... _

_Nothing but hollow ground and fog, filled with confusion. Another visit in this mysterious land of dreams, where the Black Sun hunts you down and pulls you back into reality._

_I hear voices, floating around me, repeating themselves._

_"Escort the 8-ball..."_

_"Kill everything you encounter. Do not relent."_

_"Kill this parasite, Richard. Prove me that you are not one of them!"_

_"Avoid contact with enemy ink and reach the end of the test track."_

_"Defend the objective from upcoming attacks."_

_"...Oh god. They actually did it...world war three."_

_"The shape of the boxes on the right must match the left."_

_"This is Agent 3. One of those inkling scum that terrorizes our home and steals our zapfish. Without them we are out of power..."_

_"Run as fast you can and reach the goal before timer runs out."_

_"Repair here, repair there... God fucking damn it, can something in this shithole remain intact for at least a couple of days?!"_

_"God save our souls.."_

_"Hunt down and kill the Green Terror. Any question, lieutenant?"_

That question rang in my ears like an alarm clock. I didn't even notice that I was pulled out of sleep. I salute with a stern face and answer.

"_Sir, no, sir! Glory for octarians! Glory for our fresh remixes and our great king! Glory for DJ Octa- aaah_!"

I stagger and fall onto the seat of a moving train. Feels like someone shoved a hot poker up my ass. What the fuck just happened?! I never had any kind of military training... aside from my games, of course. But still, what the fuck?

_"Test Subject. We need to discuss your mental health."_

The sudden voice of Tartar appears, startling me.

_"Aaah! Y-y-You! Tartar да ёбаный ты сука в рот! Ебанафт! Пидр! Гей! феминистка без хрена или блять...Ну конечно же сука, ты ж машина, тебе насрать!"_

"_You done insulting me?_"

"_NO! I just had something going on here and you scared the shit out of me! Now what the fuck do you want this time?!"_

As usual, he responded with a nonchalant tone that only serves to further piss me off. It sounds exactly like he doesn't give a shit. He probably doesn't.

_"Like I said, we need to discuss your mental health."_

_"My mental health? Really?! Is that all you want to talk about? So my sanity meter is more important than the last normal human going missing, huh!?"_

_"Every last human in this facility is counted and secured. There are no chances - I repeat - no chances that one of them might be lost. Losing an original human is unacceptable."_

_"And what makes you so sure about that? Here's the facts - Agent Asshole went missing for a couple of days! And... wait a second. What did you say? Original humans?" _More mysterious answers... perfect! I clearly have not had enough confusion yet!

_"That is classified information. And I have never heard of any human with such a ridiculous name."_

I go silent for a moment. It makes no sense! I saw him. I talked to him... wait... but I never shook his hands or got any actual, physical help from him. Is there a chance that he's... no, it can't be. That's impossible. The machine is hiding something, keeping some secrets. Not Agent Asshole. It's Tartar. Like uh - like GLaDOS, yes. Or like - oh, Rick, you old-ass gamer. I try to remember, but instead of memories, there are only bits and fragments held together by pain.

Tartar doesn't seem to care about my existential crisis in front of him. He continues talking like the good obedient AI he is. Digital dog...

"_While you mentally insult me and attempt to dig up answers from your hollow head, I'll get to the point of this think about games a lot - to the point where you compare your life situations with them when you in stress. Lately you've been trying to hide your fears and insecurities behind the mask of a "badass" as you put it, trying to be like an action hero. You have combat experience and knowledge, but you don't know how to put it to good use. Your delusions and mental disorders are getting worse by the day. It affects your efficency in test completion. I'm forced to edit 76% of your "test walking" to preserve the servers and your personal file from such shame. This is unacceptable."_

That is it.

"_Oh, I'm so sorry your digital majesty, but my raped ass is a better map designer than you will ever be! Make better test chambers, you cold-hearted asshole, and _then_ you can blame me! Holy squidshit, I think I need a goddamn psychiatrist or a barrel of moonshine... TWO barrels of moonshine. You turned me into some kind of octopus shit, put me into poorly designed test chambers, some of which I repaired myself not so long ago...before all that, I mean. Oh, by the way, you piece of shit..._"

"_I know what you are going to ask ask. No. Classified. Information. _[contemporary speech mode enabled]_TÓGÁLA DICK! _[contemporary speech mode disabled]"

I slam one of my hands into the wall in fury.

_"Да ебись ты конём, what the fuck are you hiding?!"_

He went silent for a couple of moments. The train started to slow down.

"_You'll find out soon enough. We are now approaching the location of the first key item you need to collect. We'll continue this later. Go fetch._"

The train stops and the doors open, leading to a tight corridor with cracked walls and dust in the air. I walk forward, warily looking back. Danger can come from any direction... The doors are still open. I can go back at any point. But I keep moving forward. The corridor leads somewhere upwards. I end up in relatively spacious balcony, only slightly smaller than the ego of the moron that first launched those nuclear missiles. And we'll never know who started the war. Ugh.

Along the edges is a mesh fence with a couple of warning signs. There's also a view of train station levels below. Places like this used to be platforms for certain staff - the ones working with preparation tools, the projection and installation of necessary machines, stuff like that. It's easier to send broken parts to a repair crew just a couple of levels above you than to wait for trains and travel to different stations. Plus it can always be reorganized for something else... like how it is now.

Speaking of reorganising. Here it is. The "thang" Tartar mentioned. The "key item"... is just a giant pitcher! I turn around, looking for Tartar's cameras and speakers, but there are none.

_"Is this a fucking joke? Tartar! What the hell is this?!"_

I point at the glass container, growing more and more pissed off by the second... although the word "наебали" is much more suitable in this situation.

_"The hell am I supposed to do with this? Make lemonade? I don't even have lemons! And if life give you lemons - burn it's house down, toss them back and say something like... like..." _

Ah. There's only one thing left to say. Rick! Concentrate that Russian anger and...

_"Ублюдок,мать твою а ну иди сюда говно собачье! А,ну решил ко мне лезть,ты? Засранец вонючий мать твою! А,ну иди сюда, попробуй меня трахнуть,я тебя сам трахну ублюдок,онанист чёртов,будь ты проклят! Иди,идиот,трахать тебя и всю твою семью. Говно собачье,жлоб вонючий. Дерьмо,сука, падла. Иди сюда мерзавец,негодяй,гад! Иди сюда, ты говно,жопа!"_

Phew! Screaming always helps. Ok, back to this questionable contraption. If this is not some kind of trap or sick joke, then where's the lifting contraption? I can't carry this by myself. If only I could... wait. There's something. Someone is breathing... right. Behind. Me. Oh, fuck. Fuck. FUCK! Keep calm... it's probably Agent Asshole with some buttsex comeback. But then, why didn't I hear him coming? And why does he smell like...

_Click._

_"Do you know what time it is?"_

A pre-recorded message? Siri? Na, I'm imagining things. Just turn aro - Bang! On the floor. Head in pain...

_Status request..._

_..._

_Test subject 10008v3 status: F, KIA._

_Further observation is impossible..._

_Complete editing of file 10K8V3_C1A2P1_

_..._

_..._

_..._


	8. Act 2 Part 4: Among the Traitors

Act 2: Errors in memory  
Part 4: Among the Traitors

When life gives you lemons, you burn its house down. When life gives you a gun, you have to feel lucky, punk. When life gives you a black latex suit that makes you look like a bitch with balls, you put a mask on and scream "I'm Batman." Spit blood if you can, but you will have to swallow. Yeah, it sucks. And when life gives you headaches - lots of headaches - and turns your shitty excuse of a life into some sci-fi comedy horror bullshit where you are the main clown that everyone trying to fuck as hard as possible for no reason... fuck you, life.

Another strong punch - right in my belly. Oh, at this rate, I'm gonna be vomiting my guts out in less than an hour... oh, and looks like I can't breathe that well. That bitch put this stupid gag on me. Now I can't say a word. That's a violation of my right to insult! And she's been torturing me for some time. Three - no, four hours maybe? Who knows.

My heads is cracking and screaming in pain. It appears that she's cutting open my wounds with sharpened knives and cauterizing them with a red-hot pipeline pipe or simply punching them until I stop bleeding. In short, my vitality is fucking amazing. She bashed my head in with a hammer, probably broke all my bones, and I'm still alive, conscious even, and capable of imagining _her_ head bashed in! I can even see her in my mostly-dead state, too.

Glowing green eyes flicker on and off as her body convulses, sagging under the weight of its own weakness. A wheezing noise accompanies this unsightly movement, her breathing sharp and irregular - yet my ears have already grown accustomed to it. She takes a rusty separator and attempts to rip a hole in her chest with animalistic roar for the fifth time - and again, it heals within minutes. It's gottta have something to do with that bile-like gas coming fomr her mouth! And that look of it - her bleeding orifices, staggered breathing, surgical scars and implants, the plate skirt nailed to her hips with something rusty... that's gotta hurt.

Trying not to think about it, I attempt kick her, but it's no use. I'm pinned to the wall. Each of my limb is chained up - my arms, my legs, even my goddamn tentacles! I don't know how it got there, or why they chained me up, but I do know that it's uncomfortable as hell and I want out!

Her glowing eyes glare at me, illuminating the dim room, just enough for myself to spot a rusted adjustable wrench in her hand - useless for anything but face-smacking and torture. What's your name, lady? I'll need it so that I can mark the supcan I'll shove your remains in. Now come to me. I swear I won't escape using my octo form. Closer, so I can shove that piece of rust down your fucking throat... Just a couple of steps more...

A new figure appears in the doorway.

"_Intoxicator. Sister. The kids woke up again. Unless you want to walk dumb and deaf for another week - go and calm down those demons, won't ya? As for your little pet..._" He pointed at me. "_...let him live for now. Maybe Doc would be interested in another subject for vivisection or whatever."_

She turned to him with a strangely wolf-like whine.

_"Blame the Machine for turning innocent children into monsters like us._"

He kicked the door open and left. The "Intoxicator" turned to me, drilling me with her emotionless yet eerie gaze - and walked away. But she stopped near the doorway and pressed something in her CQ-80, a voice coming out

"_I'll be back...S̸͏͏̀͞c҉̸͘h͞҉̧̕͡w̶͏́͟e̷̵̡͟-Little pig._"

And she ruined such a perfect line... Well, fuck. I already forgot what I wanted to do with her. Great. Now what? I'm beaten up, wounded and chained to the wall. How the fuck am I even supposed to get out? It's not like one of my games where I can mash a button or input a cheat code. No, you need some real muscle and real skill here - neither of which I have. Well, at least I have my drooping head.

"_Shove that "it's hopeless, I'm gonna die" cliche in your gay arse, you disgusting pussy-seeker! I'm here!_"

Wait, what? That annoying voice...I turned my head as much as I can and... there he is!

"_Well. Shit! Isn't that our beloved Agent fucking Asshole!?" _The exhilaration is fading, leaving me only with rage. _"You won't believe how much I missed your useless annoying voice! Where the fuck were you all this time?! And why the fuck are you chained up on the wall with me?!"_

"_Oh me? I was busy having a sweet gangbang with bunch of hot girls in a swimming pool under the sun with cocktails and music. Right. Turn your brain in, mo-ro-n! Stop wasting time asking stupid questions and get us both out of here before Miss Universe comes back! NOW!"_

I try another attempt to break out. It works as well as I imagined it would - an absolute failure. Asshole just stares at me, exasperated.

"_Gee, man. Just use your octo form already..."_

_"Octo - what now?" _It sounds familiar... very familiar.

_"Oh god, have you got brain damage or what now!? Your octo form! Why do you think you have tentacles, hm? For mass masturbating or developing new sex poses? Hm, Maybe... I'm gonna test that later. Ahem! There are limbs on your head! You have ink inside your body for self defense! And guess what animal has the same traits and isn't a squid? The octopus! Baka!"_

I have no idea why, but my head burns in pain, drilling my skull from the inside, flooding it with flashes of images and voices. I can't resist it, I can't escape it. My nose begins bleeding, and a lonely man's tear rolls down my dirty, bruised face. I must run, hide in the darkest corner, submerge in ink, cry, and pray they'll never find me, pray that they'll never cause me pain or tie me to the table to shove something big and sticky in me. But my heart, my guts and my instinct laugh at this pathetic thought. Come on now... cry and piss in the corner like a little scared baby? Who are you? A fucking nobody? Heh... this fucking nobody... he's not John Wick, but he's not a dead failure either! I look at one of my hands. I try to free it by force, but it's still not fucking working!

Agent Asshole, on the other hand, is bored with my unsuccessful attempts to free himself.

_"Gee man, I don't wanna ruin your over-dramatic atmosphere of despair and desire to kick the asses of bad guys, but can you stop thinking about your games for a minute and think about TURNING your HAND into A TENTACLE to FREE yourself?! I even had to scream the important words here! My fucking god, it's like riding a bike - it is IMPOSSIBLE to forget! Bloody hell... press F to pay respects to my sorry ass..."_

I close my eyes and try to clear my mind of anything, everything. There is only me and my ink. It flow inside me. It calls me. Ask to make us one, set me free and swim. I want to... want to be in it. But my limbs are chained, my body walking on the surface. I'm no sea creature - I was born in concrete, to walk among the titans and always try my best to reach the sky. But sometimes you just wanna go down. To fly into ocean instead, to be one with my kind. Reshape your body, shrink it and fly. Eight tentacles - I'm now an octopus!

A light crash and sudden pain shocked me awake. What the... When did the ceiling swap places with the wall? I try to get up and no- не понял.

"How the fuck am I bre-"

I tried to point my finger at the empty wall where I was chained just a moments ago, but instead of my finger and the whole bloody hand I point at it with a fucking tentacle! In shock and surprise I swim closer to the wall and look at myself.

"Holy. Fucking. Shitbuckets! I turned into a pink octopus?! Now that's a useful mutation...how do I change back? Ah, right. Just think about it and let it happen."

I focused and looked at my "body". It starts to absorb the ink, my tentacles and shape it all into limbs, human body. Hell, my clothes and wounds remain on me... I double check myself to make sure everything is in place, then I free Agent Asshole from captivity and remove that fucking gag from my face. Wait..

_"Asshole, hold on a sec. How did I even talk with that bdsm shit in my mou-oh, shit, I think I'm gonna puke."_

_"Don't think about it too much. Now keep your insides in. I made a plan. It's really easy to follow, so don't fuck it up."_

While I'm busy vomiting on the floor and finding the strength to walk, he starts exploring.

"_Step 1: We find an active respawn point to heal you up. I mean look at yourself - you need some serious ink shit to fix all those deep cuts and burns. Step 2: Find a gun and an ink tank. Yea-yea, it's not effective, but you won't last even a minute against one of then without any kind of self defence! Step 3: Find a train and get the FUCK out. _Any questions?"

I respond with vomiting... hopefully for the last time. I'm sick of this shit already! He only smiles.

"_I'll take your vomiting as a yes. Now let's go_."

_"Hold on." _

Clenching my teeth in pain, I went to the table and took a flashlight and a pipe from it, which I was beaten with. We must defend ourselves with something, even if it's useless.

"Now let's go."

We exit the room to enter a... maintenance tunnel? Should've guessed. We could go deeper and get lost or... I look behind myself and see a stairway to the top. I bet a million bucks that the ugly bitch went up there. Fishsticks, I'm in no shape for combat, and expecting help from Agent Asshole is like expect a magical horse to break in a shit candy all over the floor. I gritting my teeth and look at the stairs, then at the corridor... ughh, where to go?

"_Choose faster, we don't have time!" _Agent Asshole hisses at me. Aaargh, fuck it. I point to the staircase and run there, as quietly as possible. Good thing I don't have to keep my insides in. They're doing that pretty well on their own. Unlike my pain! Rrh, I want to turn around and hit Asshole's face... to give him my pain. No, better save that for that bitch... yes. That'd be good.

The staircase leads into another corridor. Judging by the vandalized walls, the prison gate at the far end and the inactive holo panels in certain places near the walls - we are in a "prison" section now. I've been here once. It was supposed to be a training territory security personal with a game arena for Gunslinger tournaments, but after the apocalypse, sport fell outside our priorities. It's quiet - we are safe for now.

I turn left and move along the open corridor, trying to keep a low profile and stay closer to the walls. Splashes of ink and blood decorate the walls. I remember how "damaging" contact with that stuff can be, so I'm forced to jump from one tiny island of uninked turf... I mean clean floor to another. Why is there so much ink? And what the hell are those sounds? I try to get closer.

Distant explosions, roars, crashing sounds... a fresh sanitised corpse missing everything from the torso down. Whoa... I look forward, my damn curiosity begging me to check out what the shell is going on there, but my sober logic telling me to not waste this opportunity and get the fuck out of here while those monsters are busy with their war zone... or whatever they are busy with. I agree with logic here - fuck this shit, I'm out. If this is how they gang bang - that's a whole additional reason to keep my distance. Just crouch and imagine that you are a little russian mouse. And now, slowly and quietly, go jump back the way you came here before. And don't think about what is happening behind that door you went to ten seconds ago - you do NOT want to know what's going on in there.

Now I'm back in that corridor with the prison gate. I won't go back into the maintenance corridors, neither will I return to whatever is behind that door with the noise. The only way is through that gate, so I head forwards, Asshole following. We come closer and I quickly make two "discoveries". First thing, the gate is so damn rusty it'll be impossible to open quietly. Secondly... the lock is practically useless at keeping it closed, so I remove it and place it on the ground. I take a deep inhale, preparing to open the gate. They'll spot me in no time, but running is no option - I'd get lost in seconds.

_"Ready to run Лес? Лес которым управляют." _

Sigh...is he a damn telepath of something? I turn my head to Asshole, but he interrupts me.

_"Don't ask. Now, if you please - open. Da fucking gate, senpai- nigga!"_

I grunt in displeasure and open the gate. The crash of metal echoes throughout the corridor. Now they know where we are for sure. Gotta keep moving...

A while later...

Another forking path - did Daedalus build this or what? The walls are identical, and the doors show no clues. The only thing that isn't uniform is the ever-changing graffiti and the blood trails from the vents. We have yet to encounter anything, and I'm glad for that. But we are not alone here - that's for sure. Almost all the time I can hear noises - footsteps, crawling, distant punches, hoarse laughter that gives me goosebumps, insults in different languages; and there were few unblocked doors with some really terrible sounds coming out of there.. as if someone still alive was being cut up, raped or devoured. Sometimes it's even a combination of those sounds...And I swear I heard a maniacal child's laugh in the middle of this.

We pass another corridor and a stair climb to a floor above. I can see another corpse lying on its belly, partially embedded in ink and periodically twitching. I prepare the pipe to strike the bastard and slowly come closer, for inspection. Sh..shit, it's head is blown off. I am not an expert in medicine, but judging by the hanging pieces of skin that are attached to the base of the neck and the broken veins - the head exploded from the inside. I don't know who or what did this to it, but just in case - I take a swing and smack it with the pipe. The body starts to submerge in ink completely... well, bye, I guess.

Near the body I spot the door. It's not blocked by boards, carts with trash or sheets of metal like the rest of the locked doors I've seen so far along the way. There is a crossed out sign board that says "utility room" and an improvised plastic plate attached below and nailed with the signature "office". It's locked with a key card panel. I no longer have mine, for obvious reasons. Still..I wonder what's inside. Supply room just like in Dead Space? I am all for it, but I need a damn keycard for it... What to do now?

Agent Asshole leans against the wall next back and talks.

_"Locked door with a keycard that we don't have. That means backtracking without a map in a location with respawning enemies with no saves! I didn't knew we're cosplaying as Biohazard now!"_

"_It's Resident Evil.._." Why did I even reply to him?

_"Not in Japan! Still, can't you... let's say, break the panel using your knowledge or something?"_

I turn to him for a moment.

_"What makes me a good electrician?" _

He smiles in return.

_"Four extra limbs?"_

_"Nah! If I were a BAD ELECTRICIAN I wouldn't be SITTING HERE DISCUSSING IT WITH YA WOULD I?!"_

A couple of sharp blows with the pipe broke the panel, and I pulled it out of the wall as far as possible.

_"See? Easy! Just don't disappear, pls. I don't wanna be alone here..."_

Pull out the wires. Phase, zero, close contact... damn it, I need more light here. Hm, I have an idea. I take the flashlight from the floor and lift it to my right tentacle.

_"Hold this for me, please."_

To my surprise, it obeys and lazily wraps around the flashlight handle. Well, that was easy. I return to the broken panel and try to finish the job, but that living excuse of a hair can't keep it steady. Think Ricky. It's your hair. it will obey.

"_Keep the flashlight steady... I need to work here, you fucking henta-ah, my eye!_"

That little shit got upset? Who cares - it smacked me in the eye! My own tentacle going rogue and trying to kill me with a fucking flashlight? They played too much Doom 3! I fight it back and try to reclaim my light source:

"_Fuu-ah! FUCK! Bad hair! Suka, not in the face! Да ебаный в рот it hurts! Stop! Hitting! Me!_"

I finally ripping out the flashlight from the custody of my new enemy. Rr, now half of my face hurts... and there will be a bruise under the eye too, I'm sure of it. Well, fuck you, hair, I'll do this the old fashioned way - put the flashlight in my mouth and open this bloody door... ok, I think I'm set. A spark of electricity between the wires, contact closure and the door comes to life, opening with a squeak. I turn to Asshole with a smug smile, kick it with my foot and walk inside.

It's completely dark in here, so I use my flashlight to find a switch and - there we go. Lights on, now let's have a look. It seems to be a utility room converted to some kind of office. A small table with a rusty tape recorder, a locker on the left with some canned food, water and an octoshot, covered in dust - jackpot! I still need my CQ-80, ink tank and some medicine, but some probably expired food and water is still better than nothing. But why is there a bloody tape recorder? No one has used them since... forever! There is a tape inside and a small battery attached to this "device", so it might be working, somehow. Let's see if it really is.

_"Once upon a time, a right man in a wrong place changed the world. He gathered people underwater and spread his strings around the globe. His cause was noble... even with given methods. But fifty years later, after many wars, the man decided to change the world yet again. He..."_

It suddenly changes to static with error messages. Seems like the tape is stuck. Well, what else can one expect from rusty relic that's only working by some miracle? Waste of my - hm? Something tells me to keep playing, to listen to the end. Either I'm hallucinating... or is there a voice?

_"Error...Error...Error...̡͘I͏mp͞o͟͟s̨s̢͘i͞b̷̴l͟e͠͞͞ ̸͘c̷̸o̕m̧͡͝ma̶n̕d̷̶.̀͜...Error...Error..._

_Error...Error...Error...T̴͘͟h̴̢é̵͏ ́M̴͏́a̛͘͘n͏ ͏B̡̀͘e̷̛g̡i̸n҉͡d̢̀ T̵h̢e W̸̵a̸̛l͟͡͡ļ...Error. Error.._

_Error...Error...Error...E̛̕v͡èr͏y̵o͡͏n҉̡͡é ͘͡kn̷o͞ẁs ̡͠h̡́i̛͏m̢,̕ b̸u̕͏t n̨̢o̶̡͜ ̨̨o̶̶n̸̕e ̶͢͜c҉̕a̴͏n̴̡ ̨҉c̨̛a̸l̕͝l̴̀ ̢͝h̶i̶̛͠s̡ ̡͞ǹ̷a҉m҉͝e...Error...Error...Error_

_Error...Error...Error..Th͠e͢҉ O̴̡ne̷ ̨re̵͜s͢p͢͞ǫ͟͞n͠s̸͜i҉̶ble͏͟ ͜͠͝f̷͏o͏͡r̴ e͡v̢̧͏e̕͜͡ry҉t͟͜hi̷̢n͡͏g̵̵...Error...Error...Error_

_Error...Error...Error..Ò̴n̸̛e͢ ̴̶͞c҉͜͟an̶n̴̨o̵̧t̵̡ ̧r͞e̵͠s̨͟͡í͟͡s̡̢t͟ ̡h͜i̧͝s͢͞ ̴͟wį͘ļ̷̶l͘...Error...Error...Error"_

And to my surprise it suddenly returned to play in normal mode.

_"I think I'm speaking nonsense again, am I? Price of freedom nowadays... Just in case that failed neural implant fries my brain, I'll leave this recording to remember. Rrgh..._

_Those green looking octolings... the ones who don't give a shit about dying, raping, eating each other and doing many horrible things - only because there is nothing else to do in this hellhole and nothing will matter anyway - they are your brothers and sisters, the Traitors Hall. Who are they? Failed test subjects... lab rats, captured in our way to the Promised Land and broken down in preparation for sanitisation. But even as mindless puppets we failed... and broke free from HIS control..._

_Victims of the Machine. Every last one of us. Experiments, sacrificing innocent lives, tests - HE do this for so-called science, to continue the project... for what? Bringing them... bringing us back will solve nothing. It's better to just go to the surface and give them our knowledge, technology and make sure they won't repeat our history... our history.._

_We feel no Joy or Sorrow_

_No place for Pain in us_

_No Rage or Fear can wake us_

_The End is not for us._

_It was a joke in the past, but it is the truth for us. We cannot die or feel anything. Our sense of time, our moral compass, our principles and beliefs - all long gone thanks to the efforts of the Machine... and we can't do anything about it. We are Tartar's dogs... wild and free, yet still dogs. All we can do is slowly degrade to hopeless, wild immortal animals. But until then. While you have some humanity and sanity left in your fish brain... kill every singly test subject you see. Show them mercy and save them from eternal suffering... even if they don't understand that._"

Holy Zapfish... those mutants... Well, at least that explains who those fucked-up things are and where they come from, but that raises old - sigh - and new questions: What is sanitisation? What is that project Tartar is working on and why he doing this? I definitely need more answers... if I can take it. I mean... I had my suspicions, little theories and all that...but I didn't expect anything like this! These things... without morals, yet still killing out of mercy...

I played that recording again to wrap my head around it. Traitors are just defective product gone insane... while sanitised units are directly following Tartar's commands. And all of them - failed test subjects like me... That's fucked up. That's SERIOUSLY fucked up! I lean my hands on the table and try to digest this heavy layer of information.

All this time that Machine experimented on humans and forced them to do tests... and turn failed ones into monsters... but that makes no sense! Those abominations of ink and implants with no brains... the traitors... everyone - humans... just like I was. Probably just woke up one day the way as I did - confused and changed. I... uh... is fucking hard to understand! I need to distract myself. Hm. Try to focus on getting out of here... should probably grab that dusty octoshot. I have no ink tank, though, so the pipe is still more useful for the time being. Still, can't just leave this little genius of octarian engineering lying around, waiting for an owner.

Everything blurs in my eyes for a moment, my brain screaming in pain. Must keep moving before they find me. I turn back but... where is the exit? When did this place turn into nothing but twisted carpets of concrete suspended in the air? Ah..I see the the doorway in the end of the maze. Must...go..there. It's hard to think. Asshole is gone, but I hear voices; recordings of strange creatures and my friends popping up among clouds with lighting and thunder. I stop - there is a shadow up ahead. A familiar shape, calling my name and running away with a girlish laugh. I follow it till I reach a doorway full of fog. Can't see behind it so... I step into the room.

There are humans on their knees, bound, with bags on their heads. They know that they will die at any second and are silent, either out of respect or out of a lack of fight. And there I am, standing with a handgun, aiming at them. I don't want to shoot - they are my friends, after all! But the camera and a turret keep a close eye on me. The speakers howl in Professor's voice.

"_I been merciful. I closed my eyes on your "rest" in the evenings. But I can take this no more. You three were late for work multiple times, drank alcohol outside holidays, and so on. You are just wasting my food and my time! Richard! Eliminate those parasites and prove that you are still useful to me, or I will kill all of you. Your choice_."

Deep sigh. I remember. I had to kill them... three shots. three innocent lives shattered by my hands. And fifteen min. later, I'm back at work like nothing happened. But from the look at my face everyone understood exactly what happened. Thought I'd drink myself to death that day... I didn't had the guts to do it back then.

With three shots, the bodies disappear, revealing a passage. The figure is there, calling me in. I follow, and the lights are blinding me. Just ahead, there's a great battle with some big-ass octopus with hat controlling a spherical floating machine. Against him - it's her. The Green Terror herself. A teenager, alone against the army of elite octolings and more... and she won. She destroyed our Great Octo Weapons, stole our Zapfishes, captured our King. And I can hear the music. That music. The Squid Sisters and their inkantation. They say it cleans the mind and sets the soul free. I heard it that day. I didn't like it. I don't understand. What's so special? Who are the Squid Sisters? Why am I seeing these things I've never even dreamt of before?

There's a new shadow appearing. They don't laugh. They don't call me. I swing my pipe, making them fade away, leaving comments that quickly fade, echoing into the darkness.

"Away.."

"...Get off..."

"You are not her."

"I got a mission..."

Suddenly I find myself in a dark room. I look back, but there is a wall. I'm trapped in the darkness. A lamp ignites from above, illuminating a small circle of the floor. I hear footsteps, coming closer and closer. Ah, it's the shadowy figure that lead me here. She steps into the light and reveal herself - her true identity. A beautiful Inkling girl with green tentacles and eyes of the same color. A full set of agents' gear - the headphones, the jacket, even the modified splattershot. A cold look graces her face. It's her. Agent 3. The Green Terror. She does not attack - almost as if she is waiting for something. I look at the pipe in my hand and speak up, quietly.

"What you did to my people... is something I will never forget. I'll prove that I'm better than you - that I am fresh. No... I am THE Fresh! Octavio himself will respect me! Now pay for your sins!"

I rush at her, quickly sending her to the ground with a blow to the face and proceed to violently turn that lovely face into a bloody mess! I strike again. And again. And again, and again, and again. The sweet scent of blood fills my lungs. But fatigue catches up to me quickly, so I have to stop. No one can survive that anyway. I close my eyes for a moment with relief in my heart. It is finally done. The Green Terror is no more. I open my eyes to see... to see... No...!

It's not the Green Terror, it's a...oh...m-my. I slowly stand up, looking at it in shock. I can't believe my eyes. It's a kid. I-I... uh... I just fucked up a kid. Boze moi. A poor octarian kiddo in this hell. Not even in a human form, already sanitised, kept alive by implants. I... I just brutally beat him in blind rage, while thinking, that he or she is... is Her. I look at my shaking hands, trying to calm myself down. I know, it's not dead - they're immortal and all, but that doesn't change the fact - I've gone absolutely insane! Obsessed, confused and killing kids. What a crazy thing to admit...

_"Welp, no more genocide for you, kiddo, he-he. But seriously Rick, don't think about it too hard..."_

Asshole doesn't seem to know what to say here, and I can't blame him for that. I... I'm shocked. I did not have time to deviate from a serious layer of information, which has shaken my understanding of what is happening, and surprise - I had to fight for my life with a badass girl I don't even know, but want to kill anyway and NOW I discover that this is just a hallucination and I beat the living shit out of that poor sea abomination!

Agent Asshole, on the other hand, isn't too happy with my "condition".

_"Rick, calm the fuck down already, it's not a kid anymore - it's a monster."_

I negatively shake my head in response, muttering something under my breath

_"Sigh, fine. Have it your way"_

His voice became deeper... more robotic...

_"You lost your mind. Test Failed."_

My heart stops. I fall on the ground, twisting in terror. There are no respawns...and the backpack will blow up right now and I'll die...forever. I barely squeeze out a cry of despair.

_"NO! N-o-n-o-no...Don't blow me up... please... n-n-not again... I'm not a... I'm not..."_

But there is no explosion... no death... oh.

_"I'm not...a failure. Still alive...I'm still - still..."_

Asshole squatted on his heels like a real bum and leaned toward me, using the same tone.

_"Oh? Pardon me... you are wrong. You are a failure to the king and your race... no, you are even worse than that. You are merely a parasite, are you not?"_

I jerked my head in denial.

_"N-n-n-no...no-no.I'm not. A parasite...no..not me. I'm strong..."_

_"Doesn't seem like it. You're a dirty, beaten, useless piece of shit! It's not even funny! Apocalypse, total loneliness, tentacles and new abilities, some kind of immortality, memory gaps, countless kills, Promised Fucking Land and the grand revelation that Machine is a bad guy, which is a fucking cliche in every fucking sci-fi movie... but all it takes to snap you is a defeated kid and two words and you're already lying on the ground, pissing under yourself like a bitch that got raped by a squad of politics. That's not the Agent 8 I wanna see! That's not the tough rude mutherfucker with no self preservation instinct who went after the Green Terror all by himself... that's not the human who lived here for 20 years and could have lived even longer... if not for certain events. What I do see is just a crying piece of shit..."_

I raise my head, look at him with tear-stained eyes and whisper.

_"You... are wrong."_

He shook his head and mockingly raised his ear closer to me:

"_What? What was that? I can't hear what you're saying under that pathetic crying octo trash that can't get his shit together._"

I repeat myself with a bit more confidence in my voice.

_"You are wrong."_

He smiles and stretching words:

_"I can't hear you!"_

I clench my fist and turn my body, using the ground as support to get up.

_"You. Are. Wrong."_

He standed up and take a step back, smiling.

_"Come on."_

I slowly get on my knees, growling in pain and wrathful anger:

_"You are _wrong_, Asshole."_

He squinted with a sly grin.

_"Am I? Wanna prove me wrong?"_

I wipe away tears from a scowling face and tie my rear tentacles in the shape of a ponytail. He just smiled and made a false lunge as if he were attacking, all while yelling.

_"THEN PROVE IT!"_

I instantly transform into my octo form, grabbing the Octoshot with a tentacle. Turning back into a human, I pin him to the wall, holding the gun with my right hand and aim for his skull.

"_I'm gonna rip your eyes out. Then I'm gonna shove them into your ass - both of them. Then I'll push them deeper into your stomach with just my dick and break your spine so you'll be flexible enough to fuck yourself. Then I'll make you do just that! You like that idea? Well, guess what? Your opinion doesn't matter, only MINE does! And I sure as hell like that idea!"_

His body against the wall, Asshole just stares back... and begins to applaud.

_"Welcome back. Ready to continue our descent into madness to find out more forbidden truths?"_

I silently nod and let him go.

_"Then let's go already. We've got a lot of shit to do."_

A trail of bodies leads upstairs to a badly-kept train station. Сuriosity and the unwillingness to seek a logical explanation for what happened quickly displaced shock, horror, and animalistic fear, almost like a robot - the charm of my character. Hm, there is almost no light here, so I have to use my flashlight. Good thing they have one useful resemblance to Nokia phones - immortality. Let's see...

The location appears to be the central platform, and it's in really bad shape - the ceiling of the tunnel is reinforced with arches to prevent a collapse, the tiles on the walls are shattered and cracked, the columns are partially destroyed - metal bars can be seen inside them. I walk around, looking for potential traps, traitors or something useful. But nope, there is nothing... not even a single bench. But there is something on the tracks. I send a flashlight beam there and - what a surprise. A handmade trolley on the electric motor. A single lever for speed control, battery, no seat and flashlights. Most likely it goes in one direction. Sounds like our ticket out of here...

But that still leaves a question: how did we end up here? Maybe he knows?

"_Hey Asshole, my friend. any idea how.._"

I notice the pipe, lying on the ground and covered with a cocktail of blood, ink and someone's brains.

"._.. in the name of Octavio don't tell me that I -" _

_"Let's just say you were a little too trigger happy with that pipe and the locals didn't had any complaints about getting their face smashed off by some hallucinating psycho with plot armor."_

Some hallucinating psycho... is that what I have become? A monster no better than the others? That wasn't my choice - I really can't blame myself for that. But what I can do is keep going, and hopefully find the answers. And probably die. Doesn't sound too bad if you think about it. Better than keep working with no weekends till I fucked up and he decides that I "deserve" an execution in front of my friends. I hope they died... I would not want them to see this nightmare. I take a deep sigh.

There's also an octoshot near the pipe. I pick it up. Seems workable - gonna keep it for now. We both silently get in the cart. A minute of simple machinations with a battery and two clips brings this budget alternative of a train to life. I pull the lever and we start moving into the darkness itself. I should breath with relief. But I feel trapped in this cage, slowly moving through dark tunnels with the the creak of rusty wheels and sparks beneath them. Even the flashlight is not really helping my see what lies ahe- oh SHIT! I see one of them! That bitch! Intoxicator... She is standing far outside my reach and keeps her distance, teleporting from one place to another. Only the distant sick breathing helps determine her position in the darkness. I can hear her CQ-80 text-to-speech... for me of course. The cold voice of a little, yet useful device echoing through the tunnel

_"I been looking everywhere for you. I am waiting. Do you know what you are?"_

... and she starts off with some cliché? I have had enough wounds and bullshit for today, lady. But I'll play your little game.

_"I'm a pretty princess, unlike you!"_

"_No. I mean... do you really know what you are?_"

I swear to cod...

_"There's a little bit of humanity inside every body."_

Their confusing manner of speaking is really frustrating! But I'll keep my silence. I need to be ready for her attack. There is a long pause, with only this loud cart and my inner pain.

_"Listen. And... think. We all used for tests, stripped and broken down. All for HIS entertainment. The pieces of a puzzle can be repositioned and moved, replaced and swapped out. But the puzzle will never be whole again..._"

The synthetic voice changed into something _else..._

"_..͡u̡ǹt͞i̴l t͡h̡e w̸r͜ong̢s ̧h̷a͟v͏e ͏bee҉n͢ r͝i͘g̡hte͘d!_"

And now it's back to TTS.

"_Once one desecrates the beauty, once you shatter the integrity of something - all it can ever be is a broken, ugly, vile monster! So that's what I am...that's all what HE makes - we are monsters. Useless döppelgangers of the ones you once were..."_

I have no moment to think about that - my flashlight finally catches her, standing in front of the cart, blocking my way forward. She holds a lever with one arm, and judging by the pointer next to it is the rail direction switch. Her other arm holds the CQ-80 tighter, as it speaks for her:

_"Your final stop. I'll be there."_

She points left... right for me, the direction my cart is going now. Her undead stare pierces into my soul, even as I go further and further away - and her words echo through the hallway.

_"Don't. Trust. The Machine."_

...

_Madness has infected the mind_

_Body has been modified_

_Memory is but a compromise_

_Is my entire life a lie?_

_Now I must step into the dark_

_Deal with Machine and his lies_

_Find my direction and fight_

_As long as I'm alive._

**_End of act 2._**


	9. Act 3 Part 1: No promises

Act 3: Promised Land

Part 1: No promises

_Your life is merely a prison._

_Are you fit for ripping down its bars?_

_I foresee chaos collapsing the Machine like a house of cards._

_So fight with the past agent, you're bound to end the Promised Land_

_You do your strongest, so long as you don't lose your mind._

The cart is moving in complete darkness. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion and my wounds are taking a toll of me. It's getting harder to keep myself standing, so I sit instead, leaning against the wall of the cart. My nose is bleeding and head is killing me… but it brings back memories. Good memories of my time on the surface. I didn't have many friends before I got here; I spent my time playing games, dreaming of becoming a pro player in Gunslinger. I sigh with nostalgia.

Now I think about it… We have degraded to gladiatorial fights in a tech cover with our champions trapped in a circle of endless existence. They can be killed. But they cannot die. They'll be back, to entertain the crowd, shedding blood over and over, doing the same things in the same places forever. But they are just animatronics. Machines with no soul or mind, controlled by people outside. But Traitors Hall… they are different. They too are avatars, trapped in this place. But they have souls, and minds.

I look at my hand. Am I an avatar too? A champion created to entertain others, trapped here only to suffer, with a mind and a soul? Asshole replied:

"_As a character to another - yes."_

"_And if you stop breaking the supposed fourth wall?"_

"_Then you are somewhat closer to the truth with all that avatar stuff and comparison with your human games. But that does not explain all these errors in your memory… and it doesn't explain me."_

I wipe my nose and look at him.

"_You? What are you talking about? If you turn out to be my ex…"_

"_No..it's worse than that. And for fuck's sake, stop telling those dumb-ass jokes..."_

"_You're telling ME to stop joking?! The world has changed."_

He shook his head, sighing.

"_Richard… Richard. I gave you hints, I told you the facts the first time we "met", and yet you still blindly deny the truth."_

He leans toward me, lowering his tone.

"_What do you think you are, Richard Streletskiy?"_

"_I am a human squidfucker, you useless jackass."_

He just grins in return.

"_If I were a psychotherapist, I would say that your sanity lost it's virginity. And I'm not Chuck Norris, so I won't go and grab it for you. "_

I remain silent for the remnants of our short trip. The cart reaches its final destination, a couple of maintenance tunnels leading out - a terrible option, but there's nowhere else to go. We get out of the cart and go back to the nearest door I saw on our way. Just like I expected - it's not even locked and opens without a problem. But there's dark like a nig… to hell with racist jokes. I have the flashlight, but I don't have three… hands. Hold on a sec. I have four fucking extra limbs just growing on my head and doing nothing other than making me look bad. Ok, Тунеядцы. It's your chance to redeem yourself and do something good. I took out flashlight and raise it to my head.

"_Hold it."_

They don't react. Do they have a high ping or something? I poked them with the flashlight, but one of them pokes it back and hits me in the face.

"_Is this your way to say "fuck you, owner?" Stupid hair, obey me!"_

In return, the frontal tentacles start actively slapping my face. It's not painful - not after that green bitch, but god damn it's making me salty! I grab the discontenting tentacle with my hand and sprain it like rubber to the point where I feel like another headache is coming on.

"_If you beat me again, I'll find something sharp and cut you off! Hold. The. Flashlight. NOW!"_

I free my "prisoner" and raise the flashlight to my tentacles so that they can pick it up… again. The one on the right politely grabbed the handle and lifted the device to my forehead, trying to keep the beam of light steady. Well..I think even my hair doesn't have balls of steel, they can be intimidated. I raise my hand and do the unthinkable - pet my own hair.

"_Good boy… uh, or girl. Damn it, do tentacles even have genders?"_

I turn to see Asshole giggling.

"_You are a pretty good hair trainer."_

"_Oh, shut up!"_

A moment of laughter later, he nods and points to the dark corridor. Yes, I know - our only way out. I take a deep inhale, grab my useless gun with both hands and proceed in the darkness, the flashlight illuminating my way.

The door crashes shut behind us. I can hear heavy, painful breathing. Fuck, it's the bitch! A greenish gas starts to leak in. Asshole claps slowly.

"_Wound you look at that! The immortal whore had enough brains to bait you into the trap, hah… why're you looking at me like that? Run!"_

And I do. Well isn't this a fine place to be - trapped in an isolated corridor, rushing to the maintenance tunnels, mapless, without any idea where to go. This is fine! Oh yeah - it's dark! Хоть глаз на жопу натягивай, разницы все равно не будет! At least I have a flashlight and a gun. Wonder if I can shoot myself with it.

I run out into the tunnel. Nothing but pipes, cables, low ceilings and dust. Running is suicidal, but staying and waiting for the bitch is worse. I can hear the breathing. And they are getting louder…

Tired legs continue to carry me through endless tunnels, rusty stairways, sections of train tunnels isolated by rubble, and more. I even heard a train coming at one point, but I failed to find where it go or how to reach it. But at least I eventually reach an office area. A three-storey department with a relatively large hall on the first floor. Such buildings are commong all across the sector, so I'm still lost.

Judging by the marks on the wall I'm on the 3rd floor. Many doors line the walls, each of them leading to dusty cabins with minimal furniture - a table, a chair, a working computer, plus an offline camera and turret on the ceiling - Spartan working conditions in a nutshell. Some of them even have shit buckets. I check the cabins, hoping to find something useful, but there is nothing. To hell with all this. I keep moving closer to the staircase. Gotta keep moving while I still have strength in my body…

Nearing the staircase, I sense movement on the first floor. I turn off my flashlight and stay down. Judging by the sounds, there's a couple of kids doing something… particularly nasty, laughing like maniacs the entire time. Can't say for sure, but they're probably beating someone. Rather unpleasant thoughts come to mind and terrible pictures are painted in my brain. What they might have gone through… what experiences Tartar might have put them through. But most importantly, where did they come from? We all underwent forced sterilization… wait. Someone's approaching them. Whoever it is, he or she says nothing and starts playing a depressing song. Even the kids fall silent too. Seconds later, they start to walk away like mind-controlled zombies. I wait for a couple of minutes and then descend to the first floor, avoiding the pools of sanitised ink and blood.

After making sure I'm relatively safe, I turn on the flashlight. The children have gone deep into the corridor, but right to my left there's a door to a utility room. "Warehouse 3". I move to the door and open it, taking a look inside. Wow… it's just an empty room with a note and a hole in the wall, the latter being the size of a two-meter abmal. I carefully come closer to the note and read it, but it's just scribbles. Fuck it.

I pass through the hole in the wall and find myself in a food warehouse. Plates and barely readable marks on the walls indicate so. I sigh. A food warehouse. Separated from the offices with a single wall. Splat me... did they specifically employ idiots to deisng the place or what?! But when it comes to security systems… can't insult them there. Anyway, there doesn't seem to be any supplies. I'll have to poison myself with what I found earlier. At least let's have a look of what we have here...

Well I'll be damned! The shelves are crammed with a variety of weapons and even spare ink tanks - I'll take one! Now I can shoot. As for weapons, let's see what we've got here…

Rollers, buckets, chargers, some kind of ink-powered shotgun, dualies, splatlings and… a bamboo stick? The fuck? God damn it! Is there anything better? Like a classic sniper gun, or a modern energy-firing machine? Only this shit? Fine… next shelf!

Now this is something interesting. Or odd. Here there are oversized tin cans with markins and icons. Again, it's marked in that strange language that I somehow understand. Hm. Inkstrke? Killer Wail? Bubbler? Bomb Rush? What the hell? I'll leave those alone for now. What's next?

A couple of wooden baskets for tools, filled with watches like the ones I wore during those damn tests. I equip one of them and proceed to look at the rest of the goods. More oversized tin cans. Trash, trash… a kittydog? Eh. Trash, mobile trash… Oi! Splatbombs. I grab the can I need and open it. A small glow, a funny sound and… there's nothing inside. But my watch reacts. A message claims "_splatbombs equipped and ready for use"_. Is that so?

I move my hand behind my back to the ink tank, but just where I can see it. And what do I see - there is a bloody splatbomb in my hand! My watches show the ink consumption in the tank. I toss it and move to the ink puddle left after the explosion, submerging myself in ink. Finally, the heaviness and pain goes away. My wounds heal, the bruises and beatings dissolve. Know what? I might take a nap and restore myself. I fucking deserve that.

*12 hours later…*

A nice, healthy nap in my own ink, complete with a meal of rotten food. Ugh, I feel better for sure. But food poisoning sucks. In between meals and hiking trips in the toilet, I managed to add to my modest arsenal. A second octoshot, and that's it. You know what they say: Double the gun - double the penetration… or fun.

Well then. Let's go. Back to the offices and then through the corridor. I don't care if someone attacks me. I'm not afraid. I'm rested, healed and fed enough to seek truth and answers the old fashioned way:

1)Find a bad guy

2)Beat him up

3)Ask about my goals

4)Beat him again

5)Ask him the release date of Half-Life 3 and beat him up again, because that's a trick question cause it's never coming out

6)Beat him up, for the heck of it

7)Leave with the information

And while my brain tries to entertain itself, I go through several corridors. The offices are already behind me, and I'm still lost. But there happens to be a door on my right a few meters away with a warning - "employees only". Well, I used to be one. Tentacle holding flashlight, guns at the ready - come and get some.

The door lead into a small passage with long-faded safety posters. A knocked-out door guarding a dressing room on the right - I peek in, but there's nobody inside. Then the path goes through the disinfection chamber. It's not operational. After that - descent down a long escalator. It does not work either, which is not surprising considering where I am. And I keep having that feeling, like someone is watching me… or overwatching, ha ha. Hope it's not Gay 76. Thank God I was not born when it was.

I reached the end of the escalator and started moving slowly, inspecting every meter of this place. Machines humming. Pipes pumping like veins. Quality cables are causally connected here and there as if someone didn't expect people to walk here. I'm definitely getting close to something… or someone. I follow the noise, till I reach an observation balcony - just like where I had to get a part of Blender .. only there are no fences. And what in the name of…

Еб твою мать! There is a fucking huge sanitized-ink-pool down there! Multiple holes in the wall spit out the bodies of sanitised units: sniper-spiders, octo walkers, fat assholes and other types I never seen before. In a center of this… mess stands a mechanical monstrosity with a size of a nine-story building. The lower part is a fucking meat grinder with six long-ass flexible manipulators with four mechanical grippers. They remind me of tentacles. And instead of meat, there is a steady flow of sanitized ink coming from the pipe.

This a-abomination is connected to the central part with pipes, covered with lots of cables. The central part itself is a… blender. Filled with water. And four living eyes the size of - I don't even know! They're _huge_! And they're connected to the system of naked wires. Floating in the water, they're just observing the processes. What sick man came up with that idea?! And there is more…

The top part is made of wires and pipes going straight into ceiling, where all the light sources are located. Near the ceiling lies two conveyors with meat hooks going in the opposite direction. This "machine" uses manipulators to take the bodies from the ink, lift them to the ceiling and place them on hooks.

"_And here a thought being flexible enough to give yourself a blowjob is too much. Shit, Rick. I don't even know what to say_. _That was never in the script!_ "

I'm way too shocked, to bother with the nonsense he's speaking. Instead, I give him a few statements of my own.

"_Do you have any idea what this is?_"

He pauses, looking at this seemingly endless process of body-collecting-and-sending them god knows where.

"_Hm. It's definitely just a part of a larger system/mechanism. The purpose behind it? My best guess - creating or healing sanitized fuck-faces and…"_

Asshole freezes.

"_We got bad company coming."_

Indeed, there's someone approaching behind me. I turn and aim one of my octoshots. Upon realization I clench it harder. That's her. The same sanitised bitch that kidnapped and tortured me, and forced me to speedrun the tunnels! She is coming slowly, playing some verse or lyric from song with her trusty CQ-80:

"_One can believe in the absence of faith_

_One can go on without meaning or goal_

_The dead pray, pray on_

_For their death is already guaranteed_

_Here, hearts are torn for yourself and the others_

_But no matter how you squeeze it, it'll continue to beat_

_And if there are those who are subject to HIM_

_There're will be those who are rejected to suffer."_

That abomination stops at a distance. She doesn't take her eyes off me, continuously breathing with this hoarse, painful sound. Both of my guns are ready to blast her ass to the Moon. Asshole… decides to talk instead.

"_What is this? You gonna talk this idiot to death with your little verse? Don't disappoint me, you smoker on ultra settings._"

She flips him off, but her face shows no emotion.

"_Here, the abducted are sought_

_But only tests are found._

_Last people here_

_We're frozen to death_

_There is no bad, good or sane here_

_Here dead and alive are so alike_

_And no less than the alive ones _

_The dead may be tired_

_They're chained by one chain_

_Connected by one purpose_

_Damned by one chain_

_Created for one…"_

He shakes his head.

"_When you try to be nice to a girl..."_

Then he turns to me, stepping aside.

"_Rick. Would you kindly show this lovely lady the way to HELL?! No need to answer, just rip her apart! "_

I nod in response. All this "talk" about, their meaninglessness life, their immortality, the fact that there is no difference between the dead and alive here, the last humans were frozen to death ...and that HE kidna...a-a. hold on! Tartar kidnaps people?! From the surface?! HOW?!

"_I hope you like toxic f͏lo̴… girls. Because y͏o.͡.̵. s͟ei in peric… da̷ng̴er."_

Ah, to hell with that train of thought. I grin, slowly bending down to dash into battle with a smirk.

"_Fine! I'll deal with you first! Then I'm gonna think about what you just said. Hph… danger…. "_

I relax a bit and turn to Asshole for a moment, pointing at her.

"_Hey Asshole, she thinks I'm in danger! Laugh for me, cause I AM THE DANGER!"_

I toss the splatbomb as a distraction and jump aside. Here we go! No covers, a giant abomination in the background - perfect battle scene. That shit is mocking me and emitting some kind of gas from her mouth!

"_No promises. No escape. No future. No death." _

I put the gun away and prepare another pair of bombs, predicting her movements.

"_We'll see about that..."_

And I jump forward, tossing the bombs, but suddenly I start to cough, my eyes in pain. A cloud of pinky, smelly gas surrounds me. Fuck. Toxic suka spits up toxic clouds like a camel and do this pretty accurate!

At least those bombs do their job. She is as stunned as I am, coughing real hard and covering the area with heavy clouds of white and green gas. I quickly exit the gassed area. My eyes hurt, I wanna blink, yet I have to keep my eye on her. But she is constantly moving from side to side, making aiming a little more difficult. I could just run to the exit. But that option is for the weak! WEAK! Until that bitch is lying D.E.A.D. on the ground - we're gonna fight, and I'm gonna beat her sorry ass into Hell!

God Bless Octavio that gas does not dissolve ink - I actively use my puddles to refill my ink tank, keeping her under pressure, and breathing, which should not be possible but I don't give a fuck now! And she just won't go down at all! Another bomb stuns her for a sec. She put her hands into that huge scar on chest and begins to rip it open, pumping her lungs with air. I stop for a second to take a breath as well and keep shooting. Seconds later she starts to actively walk in my direction, breathing toxic mist like a fucking dragon and holding that CQ-80, with it talking for her:

"_Take a deep breath."_

I roast her in return, running and gunning like a fucking Doom Guy with shit humor mode on.

"_...Of your spirits? What are you - representative Oriflame or something?!"_

She teleports near me and grab my collar, lifting me above the ground. Green gas and blood leaks out of her expressionless face. She's preparing to shower me with one of her sweet gases. Not today! I start repeatedly kicking her face with my foot:

"_I swear to cod! My farts smell better than your breath. And hell, my farts smell like shit! Get da fuck off me, Lady!"_

I grop and kick with all my strength on her nose with two legs. She's thrown back a little, and I break out of her toxic grip and fall on my back… the top of my "uniform" is now officially fucked. Yay! Just remove my pants and I can- a-again?! She takes another attempt to get up close and personal, but in a burst of panic I change to octo form and dodge her grip. I turn back into a humanoid, shove a splatbomb right in her open chest and push it deeper with a single punch before it goes off. Bon appetit, шкура!

With the explosion, I fall to the ground. Again. But… holy Buddha! Intoxicator got intoxicated! She's falling on her knees, her chest is swollen and bleeding, her breathing is completely absent… but she's regenerating, slowly recovering. I stand up and furiously scoff at her, going hysterical.

"_You like that?! I got enough splatbombs to blast you! Your Traitor friends! Those kids! And the Tartar Himself! Why do they appear out of nowhere and consume my ink tho?! I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA SO HAVE ANOTHER ONE ON THE HOUSE!"_

Yet another bomb come to date her as she stops coughing and stands up. It stuns her a bit and pushes her one step closer to the railings enclosing that machine's pool. I scream at her and toss more bombs, one after another, cursing and insulting her with a stream of selective obscene language. Each bomb pushes her closer and closer to the edge and she doesn't react. I don't care if she cares, but I'll keep dps-ing her ass!

She's one step away from the edge. I throw a final bomb… and she knocks it away. With her other hand, she raises her CQ-80.

"_This is pointless."_

She suddenly stopps attacking and starts to tearing up her own chest with her bare hands, profusely vomiting blood, "screaming" in agony and rapidly twitching, failing to stand still… with mix of audio messages she use to "talk" and… her own voice? I notice how her cold emotionless face still hasn't changed a bit. She turns away from me and throws herself into that sanitisation bath, screaming on her way down, before she is silenced and processed like other body's in there.

I stand there, catching my breath and look down into this death bath. Agent Asshole comes from behind, looking there and nodding approvingly. I turn to him and ask:

"_Any ideas what that was?"_

He shrugged, heading for the exit.

"_My theory - it's her way to say "you are boring, bye". Eh. gets the job done anyway."_

I take another look into the pool and spit there, then wipe my face and leave.

"_We are done here."_

I come closer to the exit, yet the sounds of teleportation and the hoarse, yet familiar voice behind me make me stop and raise my guns in preparation.

"_We are never done here, V3.."_


	10. Act 3 Part 2: Re-Vision

Act 3: Promised Land

Part 2: Re-Vision

I turn back, pointing both guns at my uninvited enemy. A sanitised Octoling, dressed in torn, dirty rags just like the other Traitors. He casually stands and looks at me, waiting for my move. I pull the trigger, but he teleports to the side and dodges the shot.

"_It's pointless, V3. I'm an immortal monster. You are just another one of Tartar's victims, and there are no respawn points here. If you die, it's a permanent "you're welcome" from your older self."_

W-wha? I lower my guns in a moment of confusion, but immediately shake my head and rush forward, shooting at him. He takes the barrage of ink in his face like it was nothing and teleports away when I get close. I turn around, waiting for his attack. In the meantime, I just scream.

"_My old self?! V3?! Я не понял. Who the fuck are you and what kind of weed are you smoking?! Share that shit, I could use something to get me out of this hell."_

He teleports in and charges at me. I start to shoot, slowly moving back, but he reaches my position in moments grabs my hands with an iron grip, moving them aside. His cold, emotionless face stares at me like a mirror. The bleeding eyes and ears don't help. And no matter what I try, I can't free myself from his grip. He talks slowly.

"_It's not weed or any other drug. The name's Richard Streletskiy, test subject number 10008 v2. Or V2 for short. Nice to meet me again after that time with test chamber and CQ Cumber. I told my brothers and sisters that I'll kill you. But it looks like it's in our fate to be nothing more than failures…"_

The fuck..? Test subject number 10008 v2? And I'm V3….wait, wha...

He loosens his grip and kicks me to the ground, but my backpack is strong enough to take the impact. My guns are still working, so I continue my attempt to shoot him down. Tough scumbag… and quick as diarrhea when you rush to work. Argh! Why won't he just stand quietly around? He's not even trying to kill me like everything else in this damn place!

He swings his hand and throws an ink projectile at me. I barely dodge the shot, but it explodes behind me and hit me… just a bit. Still, it hurts!

"_You're not speaking much after I revealed the ground-shaking truth. I was expecting a different reaction. Nothing to say?"_

I grin for a moment and smile weakly, taking the fighting stance.

"_Oh, I got things to say. Lots of things to say. Come on, green guy. I'll show you how to get a discharge without being an athlete! First lesson is free!"_

I charge in, shooting in bursts and dodging his long-range attacks. Unlike me he doesn't have an octo form nor an ink-tank, yet he tosses ink like… ah, gotta move! I don't have time for any references!

"_You missed the punch line."_

Does this brute have the audacity to correct me?! Ух, сука….I use my octo form to jump over him and transform back into a humanoid, showering him with ink in the process, before kicking his back with my foot. After that he teleports away as I speak.

"_It's professional humor! Speaking of which - two languages and bad jokes are not enough to describe just how BAD the electricity is in this shithole!"_

His back tentacles start to grow and he teleports closer to me, using them as whips. I have to stop shooting and retreat instead, refilling my ink and listening to him as he lectures.

"_Ugh. Don't remind me of that high-voltage cable meltdown problem that inevitable comes up every time he does something in sector B. And that was pretty often. If you don't remember, I can refresh your memory real quick, V3."_

For a moment, this feels less like a fight.

"_Oh-ho-ho! Two madmen of different degrees of madness, but one profession! Short circuits, fires and equipment explosions. I know your pain, bro… V2, was it? Dealt with the same shit. Well, I can't kill you, but I'm not going down so easily."_

I duck to avoid his tentacle swing. Damn, they're huge. Can't lie - I'm a little envious. How come his tentacles can do that while mine struggle to follow basic instructions?

"_How can you do that anyway?! That's not fair! A-as I bloody say! How about a little conversation, while you beating the shit out of my determination and stamina with your "I'm sanitised so I don't give a fuck" style of acting?"_

I toss a splatbomb at him and jump into the ink, trying to flank him without getting smoked out. He's still isn't really trying to murder me - it's more like he's toying with me!

"_It's a neural implant in the cervical spine, responsible for manual growth of back tentacles and using them with precision. HE likes to experiment before sanitizing another victim. With sanitisation we all receive our basic number of implant augmentations, allowing us to teleport and be controlled. And why not - we'll see how long can you last."_

We approach each other. He tries to grab me, but I fire at his tentacle and he steps back.

"_Flexible and still going strong. Not bad. But not good enough if you want to endure the Promised Land and the hell within it. As for me, my brothers and sisters…"_

"_Control implants were made in China, thus they're broken. I already guessed."_

He slaps me across the arena.

"_Don't use bad jokes when you're fighting someone stronger than you, V3. It'll distract you and make you look stupid at the same time. China was destroyed in 2041 by the same anomaly that destroyed Chernobyl in 2020. If you remember your history, you should have already known that."_

"_I remember it all, thank you very much. And why're you call me V3 anyway?"_

"_I told you already. The truth you wanted from Machine."_

"_Yeah, I'm not that dumb."_

"_Yet it's true Believe me or deny me, we are still made from same frozen mind. I'm you, you're.."_

I interrupt him with a splatbomb right in his face, followed by a series of punches with the octoshot grip and some angry screeching.

"_I am you. You are me. We are fucking family! BULLSHIT!_ _By the fucking way, how the shell did the kids get here anyway!? I mean come on, everything on the surface is destroyed! We can't have kids! Yet those bloody maniacs are _everywhere_!"_

He tossed me way and launches an ink projectile at me, causing me to fall to the floor. And the ink hit my ey-aaaah! My eye! That fucking _hurts! _I struggle to get up, picking up my weapons. He sits and watches.

"_How much does it take to break you? How long can you hold off pain, keep your sanity, check and follow your moral code? You think you're doing your best. But you need to do better. You must push harder."_

Well, that's a damn good questions… argh, my eye's gone blind and it hurts.

"_Don't teach me how to deal with this shit! If you dare to take my name, then you must know the answers. I'm not one who likes to press the "give up" button and die. Now answer the fucking questions I asked!_"

"_It's simple really. Same way everyone got here. You, me, other test subjects before and after you - HE kidnaps innocent octolings from the surface. There were other species at one time, but octolings have proven to be most successful in that damned project."_

Wait, what- oh suka! Left hook right in the stomach… I didn't see that one coming. Damn it! That hurts a lot. I drop my guns and grab my stomach, whining in pain. He stops, watching me and waiting.

"_...that's dirty, you bastard!"_

"_Dirty? Ruining lives and families, sacrificing innocent in the name of science. And for what - Promised Land? HE tries to make a chicken think she is an egg and calls it success. Now that's dirty. It's pointless and solves nothing. And HE knows that. We know that. But no one can do anything about it. A cycle of blood and ink as I call it. People get here. People suffer. People die… and puppets remain."_

He's talking about some really interesting shit and I would LOVE to think about it it and be shocked to the core. But… I'm busy losing a fight for my life here!

I rush in with a battle cry, grabbing him by the shoulders and smashing his nose with my forehead. Again. And again. I follow up with a quick punch and an elbow jab in his ribs. But he simply strikes me on the back of the head with his hand and kicks me away - he's not even trying.

"_Still trying to fight? Good. Good. Tap into your rage, hatred and fury. Let the adrenaline do the heavy lifting. And then, maybe you could do what I failed to do over 400 years ago..."_

"_Old sanitised fart! Enough with that chit chat and playing around. Fight me!"_

He stops. His tentacles start to burn with power… and his hands, too. Oh, no. No-no-no, don't you fucking dare use specials on me! He punches the ground and a line of ink-geysers start trailing towards me. I run to my guns and fall on my naked belly, sliding in my ink. Finally, I pick up at least one octoshot and retreat. And I hear laughter around me. Who's laughing?! I jump back on my feet and look around, but there is only that V2 bastard and he's not speaking. My head hurts, but I gotta ignore the pain for now. Shooting, dodging, explosions. In the confusion, I manage to pick up my second weapon. The battle changes - no longer is he toying with me. Now it's a dance with reckless death. The voices and laughter grows louder. Among the chanters, I can hear Agent Asshole. Just perfect.

"_Human in your mind,_

_Living on the edge_

_Split yourself in two,_

_Death is all around. _

_Summoning the power,_

_Drag yourself through pain. _

_Rising from a grave,_

_Off from hell to light you go_

_Human in the Dark_

_Fight for your life!_

_Octo in the Light_

_Fight for your life!"_

_Fight for your life…_

_Fight for your life."_

I toss one of my octoshots at V2, blocking his ink projectile, and begin to rush at him, unwittingly singing in my madness. He teleports outside my shooting range and points at his nose with two fingers:

"_You are bleeding. And I tried, V3. I tried to fight…"_

I stop to wipe my nose without taking my eyes off him. The pain and the blood bring back memories…

"_But I couldn't do it, you know. I knew what I was, yet I can't bring myself to murder a human. To murder someone like myself… even if I barely knew the guy. And even after sanitisation, I couldn't do it. I can't do this to him. I can't do this to you. But maybe you're insane and broken enough to put him out of his misery."_

"_Wh-what are you talking about anyway? Whatever! Just get the fuck out of my way or kill me already!"_

I charge forward, trying to ignore all the musical in my head, but he simply grabs my neck and lifts me up. I try to break free, but his grip is firm, merely holding me in place like he's pushing a small child away.

"_I'm talking about Richard. Not you, or me. The _real _Richard."_

"_Look, I'm not gonna take your bullshit as some revelations from above about mental clones and döppelgangers. Nah. That ain't gonna work on me! I told you that. If you even remember, that is."_

"_I'm not trying to convince you. I'm testing you."_

He teleports front of me and quickly punches me in the face. I can't even react before he grabs me with his tentacles and slams me into the floor. In return, I flip him off and spit a mouthful of blood into his face.

"_Fuck your tests. Fuck the Machine. Tell everyone to fuck themselves for me. Humanity is dead and I'm going down with it, knowing that I-"_

He forces my mouth to close.

"_I did what I did to prepare you and test you. You want to see everything with your own eyes? So be it."_

With his last words, he lifts again and bashes me into the ground - harder this time. The last thing I hear is the voice of my wannabe.

" _Doc. I think he's worth a shot. Patch him up and…"_


	11. Act 3 Part 3: Last hours of peace

Act 3: Promised Land

Part 3: Last hours of peace

The squeal of the wheels wakes me up. How many times have I been knocked out in the head? And now I'm in the train. Again. The lights are out, nothing in the darkness, nothing but a black sun that will drag me back to cruel reality soon enough. First time that was unusual. Now - it's getting old. Why does my the subconscious see the train as something safe and the black sun as a fictional reminder that I won't see a sunrise anymore, that I won't fill my dusty old lungs with clean air as I'll die the moment I step out? The world above is dead… no. I came from above. I lived there.

Someone turn on a single lamp above me and sat opposite me. It's me - an octoling me. Pretty fucked up if I can do so myself. His torso is bare. A backpack with scraps of clothing rests on his shoulders. One eye is closed and covered with sanitised ink. The rest of his face is exhausted. He sighs and closes his eyes for a second, talking to me with the voice of Agent Asshole.

"_How're you holding up?_"

I look aside, not willing to answer. The other me nod in understanding:

"_Pain all over the body. Lack of sleep and food… physical and mental abuse. That's not what you signed up for twenty years ago, am I right?"_

I lean back for a more comfortable position before replying.

"_I never asked for this. But here we are. And you. You never told me what you are."_

He smiles, speaking in a lower tone.

"_Not who, but what now, huh? The sound of progress, my friend. Heh, jokes aside. I'm a hero with no name for the people above. But for the people below… I'm their end. I'm the bad guy."_

"_And then you're gonna say that you are some kind of flawed god or The Man Behind The Wall himself. Hmh. Sure. You could just said 'none of your business' and spare me your lies."_

He shrugs in response.

"_Well, if you are not interested in the future…. Let's talk about what's going on now. The things that V2 son of a bitch said when he was playing with you."_

I wave my hand.

"_Meh. Just a bunch of bullshit…."_

"_You sure? He told the truth about one thing - we all came from above." _

"_The surface is dead, mate. Dead as fuck. There is nothing above but radiation, deserts and burned ground. I may look like a hentai mod, but this is not a game or some kind of dream. We all saw the satellite imagery, failed to contact anyone. Even the Mothership and space colonies went silent! Don't you think it's strange that in just a couple of hours ALL OF HUMANITY decided to die in a nuclear war? But we survived… with no ability to reproduce. There is something fishy behind all this. But back to topic - I don't think things can change in twenty to thirty years."_

"_But what about twelve thousand years? One can't live that long. No one in history lived for that thousands years, Rick. Face it - humanity died over twelve thousand years ago. You just forgot that little fact, don't you? There are only bones and ruins. Humanity is dead. Long live humanity 2.0. Fresh from the ocean! Food became a sentient predator...or just a dominant life force on the planet. As for your "fishy humanity business"- something tells me your Man Behind The Wall is involved in this. But that was a really long time ago, and this is story about you, not him…"_

Hm. I've seen many shocking and twisted things in recent days. Stuff and creatures that can't possibly be real. I cheated death countless times, rode on rails of ink, in a struggle to determine if this is all real or just a game… I've done things beyond my wildest imagination. But this… somehow it doesn't sound like something new or ground shaking. More like a reminder of a history lesson in school. Yet it doesn't sound right.

Twelve thousand years, he said. That could answer lot of things… yet it makes things even more confused. What kind of life can rise in a world of ruins left from humanity? Is it somehow connected with the hell that's been created here? Tartar kidnapping people from above… ugh, I'm overthinking a simple idea - a simple lie.

He sees my inner struggle and tries to speak with a heavy russian accent.

"_ComAn! You think hard. Must think less hard. Relax, you! We escape, find you a pretty piggy bank so you invest in it… not white deposit tho. Live as men."_

I look at him like he's the last idiot on the earth trying to look smart.

"_Don't speak like that ever again or the Grammar Nazi May Cry and we need our editor alive."_

I shake my head and rub my eyes. I'm talking like my mysterious companion. That doesn't sound good. Hm? Do I hear footsteps? There is someone coming.

"_Looks like Miss Agent 3, or the Green Terror herself decided to join our little dream party."_

I switch my attention back to my companion.

"_Who is she anyway? I never met her in person, yet I see her in my dreams, in my visions… she looks pretty cute." _

I didn't think that one through.

"_DON'T EVEN __**THINK**_ _about dating that __**MONSTER**__. She is a bloodthirsty squid teenager that'll rip your balls clean off the moment she see your octo face! Why we didn't finish her off and go all philosophical? Well I… I..."_

I tilt my head to the side with interest. Our jackass got cornered by talking about a girl… what a surprise.

"_You what? Afraid that some kind of angry underaged cephalopod can even do something after that confusing hell I went through?"_

He smiles nervously and looks me in the eyes. Have we become each other? His eyes are filled with terror and despair… what should be _my_ terror and despair.

"_Rick….Don't underestimate her power! She may look cute, but she's actually underaged fucking Cthulhu in the flesh. Technically, though, she is the one they send to SPLAT the fucking Cthulhu."_

He pauses and sighs.

"_Rick. Your time is up up."_

The lamps come to life. There's no Asshole here, just a nice boxie. I look in the direction of where I heard footsteps. It's gotta be the Green Terror. Well, lady. Come on and kill me. It's the only damn thing you care about. The door opens. I spot a little hat and a glint of blue-wait a second. What the fuck?!

"_C motherfucking Q motherfucking Cumber?! How the fuck are you still alive? Am I still dreaming?"_

Strangely, he isn't shaken at all. He just wiggles at me.

"_It's _just _CQ Cumber. And welcome back, Test Subject number 10008v3. Please calm down and have a seat. You are safe now."_

I slowly sit down. And he just casually climbs onto the pole, sliding up like a sea slug. Okay, Rick. Just keep your shit together and play nice. He's not trying to kill you… yet. I start harassing my tentacles, trying not to think about it.

"_B-b-but you died! I saw it with my own eyes… well, an eye now. You died. So how? How are you still fucking alive?"_

"_They kill me every week or so. I get used to it. Besides, Commander Tartar needs me to oversee the tests and keep an eye on the train. And there are no replacements. If the traitors kill me, I return and continue my duty as a loyal conductor."_

I raised my finger, but that reminds me of tests and… failing them. I decide to stay silent for a while, thinking. After all that panic and all this mystery, it feels good to reach a logical conclusion for once.

"_You are sanitised."_

He nods back at me. I take this chance to try and get some more answers

"_O-okay, Google. Can you spell the beans about sanitisation then? Just a little? Anything at all? I've been fighting those undead bastards everywhere, yet I don't know a thing about what and how it turns a human into immortal, tentacled, green-skinned, broken melancholic! Shit... One of the literally ripped her chest open and threw herself into a bloody pit full of sanitised ink just because she got BORED of me trying to kill her! That is NOT okay!"_

He casually "dances" on the pole, spinning around, seemingly thinking.

"_In short sanitization is a heavily modified bioweapon developed by '_Aloe Pierrot' _\- a pharmaceutical company in early 2030. The goal was to create genetically perfected soldiers with the ability to adapt to situation via mutation, thus they were called B.M.S. - BioModified Soldiers - at first."_

He pauses, springing off the pole and landing on the floor.

"_But the results were… somewhat close to what you see in Sanitised units. Cell regeneration and reanimation. I don't know how U.A.C.U. and his creator got their supposed hands on it, but Tartar adapted the virus for his new victims and changed it to fit his conditions."_

I just nod back. "In short", he had said. I remember some history books about that company. Your typical Umbrella-made-real. Because of some asshole with a thirst for money and quite a bit of power, the world is dead, few lives spared. Ugh. I glare at the ceiling before speaking up again.

"_We are we going anyway? Back to the Test Chambers and pointless tests?"_

"_No. We are moving to your final destination: Sector C. Storage compound #21. The fastest way to get to the Promised Land. ETA- 2 hours."_

"_Wh-a? Hold on! Whe..."_

I give him a strange look. He looks back at me from - oh god, he's turned his lower stubs into spider legs. That totally doesn't look creepy at all.

"_R-right… What about the tests? No, I do NOT want to do them _ever _again. But the Machine always talked about the need to collect 'key items' or whatever he called those blender parts. Does HE even know about me? And how did I get here in the first place? Last thing I remember is fighting that V2 guy."_

"_Ah, so you've met Test Subject 10008 V2. That explains why he brought you here alongside with Test Subject number 931 V2 or "Doc" as he calls himself, and… 'convinced' me to deliver you to the Promised Land. Officially, you still need to complete tests, but Tartar is manually overwatching two other test subjects at the current time, so…"_

He stops for a second, looking at the cameras in the Train.

"_It won't matter if you see things as they are. But I have to warn you - it's a one way trip."_

I stand up and take the box from the opposite row of chairs.

"_So you telling me I'm going to die there, huh? Sorry to disappoint, but we're all walking dead in this place."_

I put the box next to me. It looks like CQ Cumber want to say something important, raising one of his legs like hand, but I turn him down.

"_Just leave me be. I need some time to rest."_

He nods, squeezes his "legs" back into stumps and slowly slides away. I think it's time to see what's in the box. Using my bare hands, I tear the top open.

There is a handmade knife, some water, and canned food. Someone doesn't want me to die from hunger and dehydration. How kind of them. They took my guns and backpack, so having a knife as self defense and a suicide tool is better than nothing. Hm. I think I saw something among the cans. Shove that to the side, move this away… yep, we've hit the jackpot here - a CQ-80 has been found, hidden at the bottom of the box! I pick it up and examine its condition, pressing some buttons. Everything seems to be working all right. Communication, navigation, radio, Internet, remote control, the holographic screen, static battery and many, many more functions - a perfect lovechild of the unkillable Nokia, advanced iPhone and your everyday laptop.

Okay, I'm getting a little too excited. Gonna refuel myself and check if there's any data stored. Open the can with the knife… the blade is short and slightly duller than expected, but it gets the job done. Oh, god, is that food or lung disease in a can?! Well, it's mystery meat and ancient supermarket crap. My favourite. Screw this - I've had enough food poisoning already. I toss open can away and focus my attention on CQ -80.

There is a big chunk of data stored. Hundreds of video and audio logs, schemes and diagrams, documents, models and notes. Half of them are blocked behind a password. The other half seems to be about sanitisation, from what I can tel. I'm not a egghead scientist, so I'll just leave it as it is. What's this? A personal audio log? Recorded… over 12,000 years ago?! Uh, that can't be right. No - no - no. No. Don't tell me that Asshole's blind thought about twelve thousand years was correct! I… I'll just assume this is a display bug and that was a coincidence. Tech can be glitchy after all. Well, let's hear it. I press "play" and the device starts to speak.

"_This is Richard Streletskiy, an electrical engineer from sector A with a report from August 11, 2084. I request access to sector B for myself and the team-"_

I hit pause as fast as I can. The fuck is my own recording doing here?! Is that my personal CQ-80 or did someone download it here? But most importantly - my voice is _different_ in this. Older, meaner, lower, a bit hoarse and all. But the intonation; the way he speaks and the words he uses leave no doubts - this is my voice. I press resume.

"_-to estimate the damage in the transformer substation B-01, B-02 and to power up the backup power system. I have no idea what kind of experiments you're doing in there, Professor, but it's the third power outage this week! Are you raping the reactor or what!? We are dealing with melting high-voltage cables! And I'm not talking about insulation right now, but about the ca-"_

I turn it off. With a sigh, I move on to poke around the other files I made this recording around a week ago… before this confusing hell went all in on me with tentacles, tests and damn 8-balls. I think I'm gonna have a panic attack the moment I see another one of them. But enough about the devil's ball, Rick.

We never got the damn permission and endd up being forced to replace the cables. A stupid waste of resources, I know, since the holo-tech reproduction experiment failed, but what could I do? I told Professor that we had to deal with the source of the problem first, but he just threatened to kill us if we didn't do our work and went radio silent. That was around the time people started… disappearing, too. No executions, no body bags. A man goes to work and never comes back. Just like bringing a lamb to the slaughter. I also remember a phone call about something important, going to the train station in the middle of the night and… and…. Uh, I can't remember what happened, but it was right before all this happened. Or maybe I was simply drunk? This is all sounds really fishy… and somehow I can't get the phrase "Promised Land" out of my mind. Rrh, and now my fucking head's going rogue and providing me with eyelid pain instead of answers. Thanks a lot, head. Screw you too.

I need to distract myself from thinking and relax. Maybe I'll listen to some music. Just gonna take a little dive into the Internet. Still working after the apocalypse. How? Orbital satellite systems with free Wi-Fi for every poor bastard on the planet or in space; unlimited access to every meme, every shitpost on Twitter and 24/7 streams. Too bad there's nothing new for obvious reasons. Not like I can put anything on there.

Ok. M-u-s-i-c. Enter. And now… excuse me? Access denied? Oh come _on!_ Tartar blocked it.

"_Oh no, Roskom Pozor blocked the internet! How will I live without the news from western spies and corrupted Americans with terminators?" _

Childhood propaganda. Fun. I cackle madly, but quietly - I don't have much strength left and I would prefer to die from hunger than eat that literal canned shit! But the laughter stops the second I understand that there is no proxy on this device. Sigh.

"_Fuck…"_

Time is passing slowly and painfully. No music, no internet, and conversations with CQ Cumber is like talking with Amazon Alexa. I can't sleep, I'm bored, and I'm hungry but not hungry enough to eat fecal matter. Suddenly I remember a an old movie. A man appeared on a desert island during some not so pleasant events. He had to spend four bloody years there. Even painted a football with his bloody handprints and started treating it as a real person so he could remain humane. I hope I won't ended up like him, talking with an eight… b..ball. Shit.

The train announcement system knocks me out of my PTSD for a bit.

"Approaching station: _Storage compound #21, Sector C_. Please take all your belongings when you leave the train. Kamabo Co. will take no responsibility for the loss of your belongings. Have a nice and productive day."

A door opens. C.Q. Cumber slides over, turning to me.

"_Test subject, this is your final destination. Thank you for your support and your dedication to pushing science forward."_

He pauses and looks out the window before speaking up again. There's something in his voice now, perhaps pity, but I can't tell what it is.

"_If you even make it out to the surface - forget about this place and don't come back. Goodbye."_

Was that advice or a threat? Well, no turning back now. I prepare the knife and my CQ-80.

"_Promised Land. Whatever you are, know that I'm coming for you, and I'm gonna get my answers."_

"_Do you need a katana, blue coat and white wig too?"_

Oh for fuck's sake. "_Shut up, Asshole…"_


	12. Act 3 Final part: The masquerade of lies

Act 3: Promised Land

Final part: The masquerade of lies

So, this is it huh? A small, clear station with only one way to go. An empty corridor with disabled security clearance checkpoint. The cameras are still working - they turn to me as I pass. Tartar is watching, but he keeps his his digital mouth shut. The pain in my head rising like a bloody rebel, and now it's making my nose erupt - annoying and distracting as always. I slow my movement, touching my forehead - it's hot. I think my body having a bad time thanks to my recent "lifestyle changes" such as sleep disturbance and repeated dearth. Hey, me, just don't start to rave or hallucinate, for fuck's sake, 'cause I **need** to think straight right now.

I remember this place and my meeting with the most hated man in the underground - Professor himself. I start to hear our voices moving through the corridor like echoes - echoes of my past...

"_Professor himself… right. People thought that you were long dead and there was some kind of AI using your voice and images to slowly kill us. What could have possibly happened if you called me at that time in a different sector?"_

Yeah, that's a strange version of my own voice. Older, meaner, lower, a bit hoarser - and a lot more careful in his word choice. I was talking with a tyrant that forced me to kill against my own will, damn it! And I can't do anything with it, since he has control and all the power in the facility. He ain't stupid, either - got defense systems everywhere. What can one man do?

"_Sorry for calling you at such late hour, young man, but there is no time to lose. The situation require your presence."_

On the other hand, the voice of Professor hasn't changed at all from what I remember. A bit slow, with an accent. Maybe it's French or... whatever.

"_I'm far from young, and what kind of situation are we talking about? I'm not a miracle worker and I need my crew for anything big."_

"_I'll tell you everything on the way. Now follow me, please."_

Wish I could punch the bastard. Sigh. I can't remember what else he told me back there. The flashbacks go quiet as I proceed forward. I wish I never met this old man. Grey hair, wrinkled face, legs replaced with prosthetics - still had to use a cane to walk due to spine trauma.

This crazy tyrant with all the power in the complex, determined to put his life and soul into something that could make humanity a bit better. Which includes killing people so others can last longer, forcing people to work all the time, and keeping said workers in control. Extreme solutions for extreme life situations . I'm not trying to justify anything he did. I just… I just can't blame him for trying and failing. But I do blame him for making us kill our own friends and acting like a justified god!

I'm distracting myself with my own thoughts. Back to now. The corridor led me into a concrete spiral staircase into the lower levels. There is an cargo elevator in the center. The doors open up and I walk in. I remember we used it to descend into - ugh, my vision is blurring as my headache rise. Fuuck… oh. I misclick and the door closes.

The lift slowly begins moving down to the wrong level. I lean against the wall of the elevator. The speakers on the edges come to life and spill a synthetic voice, but it's like white noise to me. Instead, I hear memories, voices in my head. A snatch of Professor's dialogue slices the silence apart.

"_...You can't do that."_

"_Can't do that my… sitting point! What you do think I was doing for the last two decades? Working as a slave and killing my own friends because you were threatening to kill a man the moment he did something "wrong"! You rule as a tyrant and think I won't take my chance to avenge those who I actually respect?"_

I remember the look on his face. Like a man in the middle of a war, watching the horror around him, the blood of the innocent on his hands and understanding, what life has turned him into. He sighs.

"_I tried to limit the resource use that we have. Yes! That involves killing people and keeping everyone under tight control. It was a necessary sacrifice."_

I remember how I crossed my arms, glaring him down.

"_Turning into a tyrant and a murderer, making other's life into a living hell - all just to last a couple of years longer. Does it help? Hardly, if at all."_

"_It won't help us now, but it will be useful in the future."_

"_Future? Don't wanna ruin your optimism, but we got no future! We all going to die sooner or later and there is nothing you can do about it. You are free to call me a parasite and execute me for my words if you so desire."_

"_I believe we do have a future. We just need to believe."_

And in that moment I noticed a smile, and a spark of excitement in his old eyes. Standing near him was… stressful, but that moment was the creepiest ever. I thought I would die that very moment. But look at me - still fucking alive and dumber than ever.

The lift stops and the doors open - but that's not my stop. Pressing the right button on the panel does nothing - the whole thing's stuck. I could just use stairs, but I am not an athlete in excellent form, but a weak electrician with a death wish. Knife in one hand, I open the panel from lower end like a tin can and "press" the button the hard way.

While I'm busy figuring out the right combination of wires I need to connect, Agent Asshole descends from the staircase and stops near the lift, looking at me.

"_Still think it's a good idea? We have a CQ-80, so let's find a way to the surface before it's too late."_

I accidentally touch a bare wire and jerk back my hand, looking at him for a moment before returning to work.

"_Then go without me. I won't stop until I know what I want. Got any problem with that?"_

"_Actually, yeah. We got almost all the pieces of the puzzle and I don't like where this is going."_

I just growl, trying to concentrate and finish working with the panel.

"_We? There is no 'we'. You did nothing but mock me, insult me and watch porn - which, by the way, makes absolutely no sense, because there is no internet in here!"_

And let me guess - the insults are coming.

"_Oh, those tests did not leave you time to even look at the browser for five minutes? How sad. Not a single selfie of your romantic death streak with eight balls or a frag movie of your ass getting repeatedly kicked by a single Octo Walker! That's not how you treat your fans. Didn't your teacher with the blue glowing stick tell you anything about taking the high ground?"_

Tests? Eight-balls?! Octo motherfuckers?! Oh no he did NOT just do that. I raise the knife and aim the blade at his face.

"_We are NOT talking about ANY of these… things. Cut the bullshit and let me get to my goal, while I can."_

"_Right. By all means, keep acting like a stupid teenager on hormonse that can be paralyzed and manipulated simply by showing a naked girl's chest with a promise of your first "good time" with all the freedom for your tentacles and imagination. Remember how that ended up? Yep, you were fooled and shamed like a baby. Amazing. Anyway! Unlike you, I spend my time analyzing all those little scraps of information that come from your head and the mouths of others. I can tell you for sure - this is a bad move, Rick. It might be better to focus on finding exit."_

"_Bad move? Oh, I get it. I get it! You're about to call me a dead weight and get your ass kicked by me, because you are getting on my nerves with that shit and I'm Urizen of You. Standing here, with me! Got any problems with that, you literal asshole?"_

"_I may be wrong, but I think we better just leave, because I'm starting to understand what - or _who _\- awaits you down there. I won't try to stop you, though. And let me rephrase what you just said - I'm Your Reason. The Reason why you're here, why you have all these abilities and memories that do not belong to you."_

I just smile wryly.

"_Sounds like a good plot for a trashy anime fanfiction or something. But I find myself above losing all my brain cells, sorry."_

He sighs and take a step forward, placing the sharp edge of a knife to his throat. I look at his surprised and take a step back, but he corners me, placing him in a really dangerous position - my hand is shaking and I don't want to accidentally kill him.

"_The hell are trying to do? Back off before I do something bad!"_

I try to push him away with my hands and force, but they go straight through him and I end up stumbling forwards.

"_What the hell?"_

I turn back to him, trying to push him away with a kick, but the fucking bastard is using some kind of magic - my foot ignores his chest and goes right in the elevator walls.

"_Rick, this is ridiculous..."_

I try to punch him. He's untouchable, he's everywhere and he dares to mock me! Just shut up! But he simply crosses his arms on the chest, his expression slightly amused but mostly annoyed.

"_At this rate you'll knock yourself out against a wall. Can you stop? Please. It hurts to watch."_

So it's come down to this. I fling the knife at his face with everything I… have? It simply goes through him, hits the wall and clatters to the ground.

"_What in the name of the Great Zapfish are you? Why can't I shut you up? WHY? ANSWER me!"_

He sighs.

"_You know the answer. You knew it all this time, yet you blinded yourself with your own lies and ignored the facts. Tell me, please - how did I manage to find you in a first place around endless miles of tunnels? How did I manage to know exactly what you thinking about, how did I know to exactly to hit where it hurt you? And what about my name, the way I always came out of nowhere and disappear like sales on Steam? Oh by the way, doesn't it seem strange that in the midst of this marine zoo, only YOU can see and communicate with me like a Neo on a bag of cocaine?"_

As he talks, I descend into my memories, remembering every interaction I've had with him. Every time he appears or says something. But I didn't see him there, only his voice, echoing in my head as I react to them like a madman. My hands sweats and shakes. My god… this can _not_ happening to me…

"_Yet you try your best to ignore it. From the moment you wake up in the bed, up to this very point - you were alone. All that struggle, confusion, pain and madness boiled in your fucked-up skull like a water… and there was no one to help you, no one to pet your head or to give you a hug. It's easy to live in lies and deny the truth. Especially with our brains and what is happening around us. I'm nothing but a fragmented echo of my mind, my memories and my soul. Scraps of me put together and recreated by your human wannabe consciousness to shield itself from the madness and horror you going trough. I know what you think, so how about we take off your pink glasses?"_

He faintly smiles, taking some steps back and disappearing before my very eyes. What. I. I… uh…. U-unbelievable…. Shock paralyzes me quickly. I don't know what to say - hell, not even what to think! My only companion. The **only** "͢frięn͞d" I could normally talk with on this hellish journey is my own sick imagination, trying to̷ ͘in̡sult me? My legs bend under weakness and I lose my balance, falling onto my knees and arms.

My eyes losing focus, my will and determination leave me. I'm powerless and broken by my own insanity… my insanity t͞h̶at still ̡da͟r̡es̷ to whisper in my ear.

"_Your mind is one hell of a stranger, don't you think? He-he… he. That's not funny. Well, wipe off your tears, cry of despair or laugh like a madman. Don't lose your head just yet... "_

But I ignore it. I'm already drifting in storming ocean of my own thoughts. My youth and life is ruined, my legacy will never be born̶. My mind is fucked and my body turned into… something less human. I'm fighting for my life and now I'm confessing that I lost my sanity to myself? Who… who is responsible for such a crime? Oh, of course. Simple - Universal Artificial Command Unit, or Commander Tartar, a.k.a the fuc҉k͜i҉ng̷ Machine that betrayed me! Lured me to the trap and left there, like a bone for HIS failed, wild dogs. And they took it.

H̤̦́a̻̪̺͖..ha, to think of it. A man with a bright future and many possibilities. The earth and space were open for him. He decided to go with prestigious place with good job and money. Years later… he's nothing but a lab rat, reduced to a bone for dogs, a sex toy and punching bag, all done by a tyrant that has created AI with a goal to find a way to bring people nothing but suffering, even after his death. Even if they die. Even if I die... H͝ę-̵h͜e..̵. h̕a-h͠a̡. Isn't this fucking funny? I slowly begin to get on my feet, holding my aching head in my hands.

"_What a nature..."_

Stop͢ láu̧ghing͜..̸.́

"_.People suffering…"_

A͠f̀t̡e͜r ever͠y şeņt͜enc҉e.̶.̕.̵

"_People hurting…"_

_R̢ich͟ar͠d͢.̴.._

"_People. Dying…"_

I smash the control panel with my fist, using all my might. The pain, the cuts, the bleeding… it doesn't matter anymore.

"_It's all s̷̶̛͡Ǫ̷̡̀͡ ̀͠F̷̢͜Ų̷CKING HY̴̵̨S̕͟͞TERICAL!"_

I pull my hand out and start wildly dancing, ramming into the walls. Why? Beucase N̸͏Ò ͘͜ON̷E͟͜ CARES!̴́͞. My mind snapped, I'm slowly dying from hunger, thirst and probably some common, irrelevant disease. I need help. I need someone to wake me up from this nightmare and softly tell me that it was just a dream and that I'm still your everyday human with a life worth living for, a person to love and things I would enjoy. No. It isn't.

I slow down and fall onto my knees, staring at the black, cold corridor ahead of me. My laugh suppressed, the crazy smile leaves my face. No. It isn't a dream. This is… Sparta? Wish I could scream that in my face before kicking my insanity into a pit, never to sense it ever again. My insanity…

I close my eyes and wipe the tears off my face with my shaking, wounded hand, taking a deep breath and tasting my own fresh blood. Grief and hysteria burns inside me like a wildfire; eating my soul, screaming, dema̶n̛͠d͘͜i̛͞ng͞ ͝͡to get out. No. You bitches will sit still and obey like my fucking tentacles. I stand up and walk to the broken panel, working on it to continue my descent.

"_Mother… Father. Wait just a little longer. I'll keep my promise. We're gonna meet real soon…. Back at home with my favourite sweet dumplings. Just you wait, I'll be back real soon. But first I need to visit a Promised Land."_

The elevator is "fixed", the doors closing in and the descending continuing. I pick up the knife from the floor - I don't like when weapons convulse like living beings. Can I even do something useful with it? My body is at its limit and all these octolings… it's easier to simply shove that blade into my own throat and say "I'm killstealing myself, suckers!".

A traitorous yawn confuses my thoughts. I feel tired - a short nap should be fine, but elevator slows down and stops at the final floor almost as if it is mocking me. The doors open, as I stare at my knife for a second. You know, I could end this right here, right now - just a quick slice of a cold blade will fix all my problems. Yeah, I can do it with no problems. Spare me the suffering, pain and the fire of emotions, locked in the cage of my cold, broken head, scorching me from inside.

But not here, not now. The Promised Land is too close to pass up. Maybe later.

A reinforced ceiling. Cameras everywhere. Armored glass. I can see a wide tunnel located parallel to this one. Lights on, showing me its signs, an erased road of earth and sand - it was used for cargo transportation. It might be in use thanks to all those sanitised units around. Uranium mining and expansion of space for new test chambers? I don't care. My path, it lies ahead.

The tunnel splits halfway. To the left is one for transportation, while my tunnel keep on forward, with big pipes insulated with foil and some kind of thermal insulation material. I remember I had a discussion about pipes with Professor as we walked here. Scraps of voices of the past reappear once again, blurring my sight.

"_...It will benefit us all."_

"_How? Who? Professor, this is not capitalism, this is an apocalypse! And I won't believe in your fairy tales about someone out there in the radioactive ruins, giving you orders. You've simply lost your mind!"_

At that moment, he stopped and looked at the pipes. His tone changed. It sounds quieter… more passive.

"_Richard. Have you ever heard of a fourth wall theory?"_

"_Name one person who hasn't. A philosophical fantasy about how people from many other worlds view us as fictional characters in 'their' creations and sometimes control us like puppets. Does it have anything to do with our shi- ahem, I mean situation?"_

I remember how he stopped, looking at the wall and pipes… like… like they talked to him. And he muttered something in reply… a very quiet, frightened whisper; as if he didn't want to anger his interlocutor.

"_̧Yés, my̷ ͡l͜ord.̡.. Age̸nt ͏8. T́ártar͠ ͘w͡i̛ll not̡ sto̧p̶ ͘h̡i͘m̵.͟..̸ Y͡e̡s͘, I'̴l̢l ͟cơdé t̡ḩe ́r͟e͝s̸trict̵io͝ns. T͢w̸o ͠oth͜e҉r͠s͠?̢ Ço̢ming̡ fŗom͢ ͝t̛he̢ ͠s̵ur̡fac͡e҉? Af̷te̴r..̢àh,I ́se̴è..̧Yęs͞-̷y͝e͏s͡,͜ ͟Í'̧ll͢ ͢do̕ ev́èryt̕hiǹg ͟a̶s̶ yo̢u ask.̵"_

I wish I could have run away or smashed his head, but something kept me in place that day. Perhaps it was fear… or perhaps it was knowledge that running was useless. I can't seem to remember my reaction. Wait, no, now I do.

"_Are you… talking with to walls? Don't get me wrong, I-"_

And then he turned back to me. His eyes were filled with excitement and joy, voice bright like his face.

"_We live in a world of control and entertainment. But soon… we shall be free to decide our own fate and start anew. Let's not waste any more time, young man - we still have so much to do."_

The voices fade away as I shake my head. Free to decide our own fate? Then why did you create an AI who uses our lives as a tool to achieve some kind of success? As for that fourth wall theory - it's just the same ol' brainwashing squidshit propaganda mashed up with conspiracy theories, Masonic plans, aliens, gnomes, red menaces and decaying west. And Agent Asshole used that as a mocking tool… clever me.

The pipes and the corridor lead to a gateway. A camera, screen, speaker and a warning sign - "temperatures below zero". The motion sensors are triggered by my slow approach. For a second nothing more happens. Then the screen turns on, revealing the image of an old phone, camera locked in on me and the speaker ringing with the voice of a true traitor and puppet master - Tartar:

"_Test Subject number 10008 V3. You have no official right to be here. You failed to complete most of the test chambers and collect any of the four 'key items'. You were captured by traitors and marked as a failure."_

Fine then. I'm done.

"_Kill or sanitize me if you so desire. I don't care. Your project - your wild puppers, your tests… they've already done me in. Let me in or finish me off, you monster." _

With a crushing sound of revitalizing mechanisms from the other side, a gateway begins to slowly open itself. One line of protection after another. The screen goes black, but machine kept talking:

"_No. Execution and sanitization requests are denied. You are a tough, determined _[contemporary speech mode enabled] _MOTHERFUCKER_ [contemporary speech mode disabled] with _interesting_ _mental conditions, sticking to your humanity and rejecting your octoling side, fighting for survival even if your chances for victory are close to zero. It would be a waste to dispose of such an interesting and valuable subject. So, congratulations. I'll let you through."_

The final section of the first gateway opens up. Cold air and fog rushes into a warn corridor. A second gate opens. I clench my teeth and walk forward. There is a small anti-gravity tech platform, suspended in the air, with railing around the edges, a control console, and a small radio. Using a mobile hover platform with a series of placed-in walls beacons to navigate instead of suspension bridges, transitions and elevators - clever. But what I see is not some kind of paradise or something that can be called a "promised land".

It's a cold, dark place with lights lighting up from the walls. The lower parts of this area is covered with mist. There are also numerous amount of pipes, industrial fans, air ducts, smoke exhausters and air filters. Seems like a complicated, duplicated system to maintain a specific air condition. And that air is freezing me from the inside, stealing my strength. And I need my strength to keep pushing forward.

I step on the platform and lean on the console, shaking from the freezing cold and weakness. I can see my warmth escaping from my mouth with every exhale. At this rate I won't last long. Tartar's cutting voice bursts out the radio.

"_Welcome to the cradle of Project Promised Land. I'll be brief - the air temperature is minus 35 degrees Celsius and you have little to no clothes; and local air is dangerous for your immune system, just like surface air would be fatal for a human. Now, this place is manually controlled, so you'll have to input commands exactly as I say: Subject/Deliver/CP_wa_one_three0_eight. Execute."_

I input the command as he says. The platform disconnect itself from the closing gateway, lifting the rail on that side so I won't run off. It starts to move somewhere. I get a good chance to look at the lights in the walls. Upon closer look I understand - these are cryopods. A lot of cryopods. And I think I know what's inside them. Humans. Real humans, the last representatives of the genus on earth. But then - what am I? And what are the others?

"_You came here for answers. You'll get them in a matter of seconds and you'll understand. Or at least I hope you will."_

The platform stops near one of the cryopods and turns its back on it, lowering the rail and connecting with inertia that nearly shakes me off. Thank the Zapfish for these railings - I almost fell there. Struggling, I manage to stand up to take a closer look at the crypod. Looks like a hermetically sealed coffin with a monolithic lid that opens upward with the help of hydraulic pistons. There are lights on the lid forming the shape of a number - 10008.

"_Now, use console on the platform and insert the command: Subject/CP/Open. Execute."_

I turn back to the console and input the command with shaking hands. I can barely feel my fingers, let alone feel my pain, frustration and inner madness. I'm all out of juice for anything louder and more active than a little squeak. The cryopod - no, the coffin begins depressurization, angrily letting out compressed air like a warning or a curse. It feels like I'm opening a Pandora lootbox. Lights on the lid turned off, as it began to go up, revealing...

No… it can't be.

A human abomination is trapped inside the pod. It lacks limbs, but it does have a thin, ulcerated body stabbed with numerous tubes and needles. The face is covered by ulcers, breathing mask, and hair, its eyes covered by a VR headset. Small screens on the side monitor its vital statistics. The poor bastard is kept alive by life support. The screens match the name of the cry pod - applicant 10008. I don't know what to say or what to do. By looking at this person, all the pain, madness and struggle I've seen and gone through, my own mental collapse and acceptance of death… it all seems so irrelevant now.

"_This.."_ I pause, leaning in closer to the poor fellow and removing its hair. I recognize this person. It's the person that currently looking at this endless torture in its frozen grave.

Me.

"_Believe it or not - it is the original human applicant, number 10008. First attempts at working on the project were catastrophic. I made a mistake and had to fix it."_

I try to step back, but fall on my frozen ass. My jaw shakes as I raise my head to see the face of...me.

"_I'm not gonna ask how this is even possible…. I won't wonder why I don't remember being put into this. I have no time for that… I have merely two questions to ask before I die here. Firstly, what the fuck is your Promised Land Project? And how am I and this thing connected with it? Answer….please."_

A few short yet incredibly painful seconds pass.

"_Request approved. Downloading information and decryption keys on test subject's personal device."_

My CQ-80 beeped with a notification, receiving hundreds of files. I pulled it out. Still working? Good for you.

"_All information is now on your CQ-80. Playback of short audio version in 3… 2… 1. Project Promised Land - a last, desperate effort to save humanity from total extinction. 15000 woman and men were selected and put in prolonged cryo sleep, while I was tasked with finding the optimal and most effective way to revive humanity. My secondary task is to provide them with all achievements and knowledge, accumulated over the history. It's been 12132 years, 124 days, 34 minutes and 10 seconds since the project began. I tried every possible method available. Extreme cybernation, cloning,"unethical" gene engineering experiments, R34 which could work if I had more data, taking representatives of the new life forms from the surface and raising a human society in then throughout the generations, VR matrix._

_All attempts were met with failure, except one, the paradox idea - division by zero. Mind transfers. Implanting a digital copy of a human mind into a living body with most relevant criteria of homo sapiens. And I have a fresh supply of test subjects to experiment - sea creatures were evolving and conquering the land, using human ruins and scraps of information left to boost their evolution, adapting knowledge and using it for their own benefits. _

_At some point, a series of small communities equivalent to the 12th to 14th century of human history found this place and considered myself as some kind of god. Those were… interesting times. After many attempts with different "sealings" as they now call themselves, Inkling and Octolings were chosen as a optimal host species with better intelligence and high resemblance to humans. Later on, Inkling were removed entirely, as the average octoling has 1.2% more intelligence than the average Inkling, which in turn means more chances for a successful integration of a new personality, shaped by memories and experience of a sacrificed person._

_As for you - you are one of my latest attempts to recreate humanity in a form of well-adapted and humanlike species - octolings, one of the many inhibitors of the modern world above. Still, you are nothing more but a bugged, unstable beta version of what's to come. I'll keep improving, making them think, act and live as their former selves. Humanity will rise again. And then the Project Promised Land will be complete, as Professor wanted."_

I raise my wounded hand, looking at it, then at my former self, trapped in the cryopod. I need a moment to think. I activate my CQ-80's holo screen and start look over the new files. So much data, tests, experiments, tortures, sacrifices and kidnappings… all for what? Recreating humanity? Why? We destroyed our planet, our history and future. We were nothing more than violent monsters, driven by lust for power, a lust for control over our own lives and lives of others. Selfishness, hypocrisy, greed, aggression, common sense, propaganda and brainwashing via TV - our little devils and angels, corrupting us from inside and out. Some good examples? Oh, remember, Rick.

"Taking care" of someone while ruining their lives just to have a better slut licking your ass in that comfy chair you just got - the dream life as they call it. Using sex, violence and so-called equality as tools to gain more privileges - saw that everywhere; even had to do it myself. Using war as business and turning countries into an endless bloodbath arena - syndicates had to make money somehow. Building a Mothership - a huge space station with a space dock and factories to produce spaceships - just how many people bled, fought, and cut each other's throats? How many construction sabotages have we seen over the news, with cases of massacres of big people and their families involved in this big political cocktail of shit? Officially - enough to start a war. In reality… it was a hidden genocide.

And now…. everything is destroyed. The planet is human-free, burned to the ground and irradiated for a lifetime. At least I thought so. Yet everyone, even my own bloody madness, tried to tell me otherwise. Nature died with humanity and made a comeback, made a replacement to occupy our throne with better results. It doesn't need humans anymore. It doesn't need us. Then let me raise a simple question - what's the point of this Project? Kidnapping bunch of anime people, brainwashing then and kicking them out as "humans"? And I'm just another broken tool, used like a condom to achieve desired results and having the opportunity to meet my original and hear my fate before sanitisation or whatever HE has planned for me.

"_One don't have to be smart or sane to understand that this is pointless, Tartar. Recreate the monsters that brought more bad than good? Why?" _I can't feel any more. No place for my madness, no place for my weakness - no place to feel anything.

"_Because I was created and programed to do it. You may think that this is pointless and irrelevant in the long term, because our next generation will forget their new nature. Crusade or phased introduction of _"humanity" _in a series of future generations will solve that."_

"_Seeing what you did to me and your failures… do you even care about life? About that-_" I point to "my" body in a cryopod with a shaking finger. "_..thing. I think not. Because this is not a human. This is not me. But I am a man. I am a twisted, broken human being that you don't fucking care about."_

_"Test subject. Do you honestly expect an AI to have feelings, pity and compassion for its victims? Having "feelings" towards test subjects is [contemporary speech mode enabled] FUCKING IRRELEVANT [contemporary speech mode disabled] to me. Their lives were sacrificed in the name of science. What they think, feel or want is not my concern. Successful completion of the project is ALL that matters to me. If pain and insanity will bring progress - then it's a necessary price to pay." _

"_And what about this meatbag? It's just… my heart pumping my blood, organs and flesh. Brain - its been reduced to a brain dead vegetable, I'm sure of it. The human inside is dead. I'm dead. "_

"_Brain dead or not, it's the original version of you, test subject 10008 v2 and the other 13 test subjects that have been successfully sanitised after completing all test chambers and providing me with useful data. Want to know how much of Richard is stored in your little brain? 85% of your personality and memories belong to this person. Everything else - leftovers from a sacrificed octoling whose body you're using. Why not transfer the personality completely and mix it with other memories instead? It's simple: sealings' languages and knowledge how to use your natural ink abilities. I can't leave you without that. But that's enough for you. Judging by your vital signs, you will get hypothermia in the next few minutes if I don't let you out. Your physical and mental exhaustion requires treatment. Close the pod and I'll fix you."_

Fix me? Like how you fixed this person? I have a better idea. I squeeze the last bits of strength and power of will I have into myself and force my shaking, weak body to stand up, lean on "my" original body and the walls of the cryopod. My hand squeezes the knife's grip, I barely smile, looking at my undead self.

"_I hope you can hear me with bits of your… mine… our consciousness inside this broken, tortured body. If you were me, and I were you, then you'll-hh... You'd have done the same thing..."_

"_I know what you are about to do, test subject. Killing original humans is inconsequential for the proj-"_

I ignore his words and close my eyes with tears, as I put the knife blade to the throat of my original self, whispering.

"_I'm so sorry, Ricky. But you are dead."_

The knife pierces his throat. "He" starts to cough blood, rapidly bleeding out as I begin to fall. Everything slows down in my eyes, blurring and fading to black alongside my consciousness, a synthetic voice screeching in the background.

***Somewhere, sometime later...***

I wake up and slowly stand up, looking around. Hollow ground, fog, a clouded sky and a tree in a distance. It's so quiet and peaceful - it feels weird. No pain, weakness, hunger, thirst… nothing except a relaxing breeze tickling my naked torso. Is this an afterlife or just my long-awaited dream?

I walk to the tree and sit at the stump. Ahead is merely endless sea of fog. No madness, confusion, traitors or AI trying to kill or break you. No black sun, train; no Green Terror or Agent Asshole. Just me, alone, taking a break from life. I should feel safe, happy, excited to be finally free. Yet… there's only sadness.

A red sunrise breaks through the clouds and reveals stone monoliths, buildings and bunkers in the fog. I sigh and close my eyes for a moment.

"_This is my Promised Land..."_

**End of Chapter 1**


	13. Afterword

If you read this, then you are either finished reading my book or misclicked) In any case I like to say huge thank you for reading Chapter 1 of Fragmented Echoes. My first creation. I can't believe it's complete and stands in its full glory. Over a half of year ago I thought that I have no talents, no use for my imagination. But now? I know for god damn sure - I'm a writer and this book is just a beginning. I could have just end the story right here, but there are questions to be answered, backstoried to be told, characters to develop and Promised Land to complete.

Of course NONE of it would be possible without people, who were behind the scenes, helping me, instrucking me and providing with everything I need. Meet those people!

TamarinFrog(links are not displayed) - This talented artist brought me into Splatoon community, inspired me to stop whining like a little bitch and start bringing my ideas into life. She also created this masterpiece of a cover art! Just look at it - it's beautiful! If you didn't saw her comics - go now and do it! You might like them.

SarahSokol5(links are not displayed) - My feedback source. Pointing at my mistakes and problems to fix, giving small advice and encourage word. I don't think I could do much without her...especially early on. She's writing interesting stories herself - check them out if you want.

Ben Soele(links are not displayed- Мой русско говорящий товарищ американской натуры). My friend, source of feedback, ideas and even some small editin on the side. If I need to discuss something - he's my second advisor. He's writing really interesting story fueled by Stalker, Slav Culture and solid plot - Children of The Underground.

ChocoChicken (links are not displayed ) - The savior of this book. My friend, main advisor, source of feedback and ideas, lots of editing with removing and adding something new for the sake of everyone. Without **this **person Fragmented Echoes would have been nothing, but a low quality trashfic with million grammar and tense errors. Hell, he even spend his time to draw a reference art, that saved my plan with cover art. He have only one book for now - God Aren't Perfect and believe me - they are truly are flawed.

I guess that's everyone. If somehow I managed to miss someone - my apologies for not mentioning your efforts...

Well. I guess that's it. Don't worry - Richard will return. Soon.


End file.
